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OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 


Miss  Nancy  Bangert 


THE   LAST  OF  THE 
BARONS 


The  noble  animal  reared  again. 


THE  LAST  OF 
THE  BARONS 


By 

EDWARD   BULWER  LYTTON 


Illustrated  by 
E.   POLLAK 


VOLUME   I 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  J904 


COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS, 


College 
Library 


"THE  Earl  of  Warwick,  commonly  known,  from  the  subsequent 
events,  by  the  appellation  of  the  King-maker,  had  distinguished  him- 
self by  his  gallantry  in  the  field,  by  the  hospitality  of  his  table,  by  the 
magnificence,  and  still  more  by  the  generosity,  of  his  expense,  and  by 
the  spirited  and  bold  manner  which  attended  him  in  all  his  actions. 
The  undesigning  frankness  and  openness  of  his  character  rendered  his 
conquest  over  men's  affections  the  more  certain  and  infallible ;  his 
presents  were  regarded  as  sure  testimonies  of  esteem  and  friendship ; 
and  his  professions  as  the  overflowings  of  his  genuine  sentiments. 
No  less  than  thirty  thousand  persons  are  said  to  have  daily  lived  at 
his  board  in  the  different  manors  and  castles  which  he  possessed  in 
England ;  the  military  men,  allured  by  his  munificence  and  hospi- 
tality, as  well  as  by  his  bravery,  were  zealously  attached  to  his  in- 
terests ;  the  people  in  general  bore  him  an  unlimited  affection ;  his 
numerous  retainers  were  more  devoted  to  his  will,  than  to  the  prince 

Or  to  the  laws;  AND  HE  WAS  THE'  GREATEST,  AS  WELL  AS  THE 
LAST,  OF  THOSE  MIGHTY  BARONS  WHO  FORMERLY  OVERAWED 
THE  CROWN." — Hume. 


DEDICATORY  EPISTLE 

I  dedicate  to  you,  my  indulgent  Critic  and  long- 
tried  Friend,  the  work  which  owes  its  origin  to  your 
suggestion.  Long  since,  you  urged  me  to  attempt  a 
fiction  which  might  borrow  its  characters  from  our 
own  Records,  and  serve  to  illustrate  some  of  those 
truths  which  History  is  too  often  compelled  to  leave 
to  the  Tale-teller,  the  Dramatist,  and  the  Poet. 
Unquestionably,  Fiction,  when  aspiring  to  something 
higher  than  mere  romance,  does  not  pervert,  but 
elucidate  Facts.  He  who  employs  it  worthily  must, 
like  a  biographer,  study  the  time  and  the  characters 
he  selects,  with  a  minute  and  earnest  diligence  which 
the  general  historian,  whose  range  extends  over  cen- 
turies; can  scarcely  be  expected  to  bestow  upon  the 
things  and  the  men  of  a  single  epoch;  his  descriptions 
should  fill  up  with  colour  and  detail  the  cold  outlines 
of  the  rapid  chronicler;  and,  in  spite  of  all  that  has 
been  argued  by  pseudo-critics,  the  very  fancy  which 
urged  and  animated  his  theme  should  necessarily 
tend  to  increase  the  reader's  practical  and  familiar 
acquaintance  with  the  habits,  the  motives,  and  the 
modes  of  thought,  which  constitute  the  true  idiosyn- 
crasy of  an  age.  More  than  all,  to  Fiction  is  per- 
mitted that  liberal  use  of  Analogical  Hypothesis  which 
is  denied  to  History,  and  which,  if  sobered  by  research, 
and  enlightened  by  that  knowledge  of  mankind  (with- 
out which  Fiction  can  neither  harm  nor  profit,  for  it 
becomes  unreadable),  tends  to  clear  up  much  that  were 
otherwise  obscure,  and  to  solve  the  disputes  and  dif- 
ficulties of  contradictory  evidence  by  the  philosophy 
of  the  human  heart. 

My  own  impression  of  the  greatness  of  the  labour 
to  which  you  invited  me,  made  me  the  more  diffident 


viii  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

of  success,  inasmuch  as  the  field  of  English  historical 
fiction  had  been  so  amply  cultivated  not  only  by  the 
most  brilliant  of  our  many  glorious  Novelists,  but  by 
later  writers  of  high  and  merited  reputation.  But 
however  the  annals  of  our  History  have  been  ex- 
hausted by  the  industry  of  romance,  the  subject  you 
finally  pressed  on  my  choice  is  unquestionably  one 
which,  whether  in  the  delineation  of  character,  the 
expression  of  passion,  or  the  suggestion  of  historical 
truths,  can  hardly  fail  to  direct  the  Novelist  to  paths 
wholly  untrodden  by  his  predecessors  in  the  Land  of 
Fiction. 

Encouraged  by  you,  I  commenced  my  task — encour- 
aged by  you,  I  venture,  on  concluding  it,  to  believe 
that,  despite  the  partial  adoption  of  that  established 
compromise  between  the  modern  and  the  elder  dic- 
tion, which  Sir  Walter  Scott  so  artistically  improved 
from  the  more  rugged  phraseology  employed  by 
Strutt,  and  which  later  writers  have  perhaps  somewhat 
over-hackneyed,  I  may  yet  have  avoided  all  material 
trespass  upon  ground  which  others  have  already  re- 
deemed from  the  waste. — Whatever  the  produce  of 
the  soil  I  have  selected,  I  claim,  at  least,  to  have 
cleared  it  with  my  own  labour,  and  ploughed  it  with 
my  own  heifer. 

The  reign  of  Edward  IV.  is  in  itself  suggestive  of 
new  considerations  and  unexhausted  interest  to  those 
who  accurately  regard  it.  Then  commenced  the  policy 
consummated  by  Henry  VII. ;  then  were  broken  up 
the  great  elements  of  the  old  feudal  order;  a  new 
Nobility  was  called  into  power,  to  aid  the  growing 
Middle  Class  in  its  struggles  with  the  ancient:  and 
in  the  fate  of  the  hero  of  the  age,  Richard  Nevile,  Earl 
of  Warwick,  popularly  called  the  King-maker,  "  the 
greatest  as  well  as  the  last  of  those  mighty  Barons 
who  formerly  over-awed  the  Crown,"  *  was  involved 
the  very  principle  of  our  existing  civilisation.  It 

*  Hume  adds,  "  and  rendered  the  people  incapable  of  civil 
government;"  a  sentence,  which,  perhaps,  judges  too  hastily 
the  whole  question  at  jssue  in  our  earlier  history,  between  the 
jealousy  of  the  Barons  and  the  authority  of  the  King. 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  ix 

adds  to  the  wide  scope  of  Fiction,  which  ever  loves 
to  explore  the  twilight,  that,  as  Hume  has  truly  ob- 
served— "  No  part  of  English  history  since  the  Con- 
quest is  so  obscure,  so  uncertain,  so  little  authentic 
or  consistent,  as  that  of  the  Wars  between  the  two 
Roses."  *  It  adds  also  to  the  importance  of  that  con- 
jectural research  in  which  Fiction  may  be  made  so 
interesting  and  so  useful,  that — "  this  profound  dark- 
ness falls  upon  us  just  on  the  eve  of  the  restoration 
of  letters; "  f  while  amidst  the  gloom,  we  perceive  the 
movement  of  those  great  and  heroic  passions  in  which 
Fiction  finds  delineations  everlastingly  new,  and  are 
brought  in  contact  with  characters  sufficiently  familiar 
for  interest,  sufficiently  remote  for  adaptation  to  ro- 
mance, and,  above  all,  so  frequently  obscured  by  con- 
tradictory evidence,  that  we  lend  ourselves  willingly  to 
any  one  who  seeks  to  help  our  judgment  of  the  indi- 
vidual by  tests  taken  from  the  general  knowledge  of 
mankind. 

Round  the  great  image  of  the  Last  of  the  Barons 
group  Edward  the  Fourth,  at  once  frank  and  false; 
the  brilliant  but  ominous  boyhood  of  Richard  the 
Third ;  the  accomplished  Hastings,  "  a  good  knight 
and  gentle,  but  somewhat  dissolute  of  living;"  J  the 
vehement  and  fiery  Margaret  of  Anjou,  the  meek  im- 
age of  her  "  holy  Henry,"  and  the  pale  shadow  of  their 
son :  there,  may  we  see,  also,  the  gorgeous  Prelate,  re- 
fining in  policy  and  wile,  as  the  enthusiasm  and  energy 
which  had  formerly  upheld  the  Ancient  Church  pass 
into  the  stern  and  persecuted  votaries  of  the  New: 
We  behold,  in  that  social  transition,  the  sober  Trader 
— outgrowing  the  prejudices  of  the  rude  retainer  or 
rustic  franklin,  from  whom  he  is  sprung — recognising 
sagaciously,  and  supporting  sturdily,  the  sectarian  in- 
terests of  his  order,  and  preparing  the  way  for  the 
mighty  Middle  Class  in  which  our  modern  Civilisa- 
tion, with  its  faults  and  its  merits,  has  established  its 
stronghold;  while,  in  contrast  to  the  measured  and 
thoughtful  notions  of  liberty  which  prudent  Com- 

*  Hume.  t  Ibid. 

t  Chronicle  of  Edward  V.  in  Stowe. 


x  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

merce  entertains,  we  are  reminded  of  the  political 
fanaticism  of  the  secret  Lollard, — of  the  jacquerie  of 
the  turbulent  mob-leader;  and  perceive,  amidst  the 
various  tyrannies  of  the  time,  and  often  partially  allied 
with  the  war-like  seignorie  * — ever  jealous  against  all 
kingly  despotism, — the  restless  and  ignorant  move- 
ment of  a  democratic  principle,  ultimately  suppressed, 
though  not  destroyed,  under  the  Tudors,  by  the  strong 
union  of  a  Middle  Class,  anxious  for  security  and 
order,  with  an  Executive  Authority  determined  upon 
absolute  sway. 

Nor  should  we  obtain  a  complete  and  compre- 
hensive view  of  that  most  interesting  Period  of  Transi- 
tion, unless  we  saw  something  of  the  influence  which 
the  sombre  and  sinister  wisdom  of  Italian  policy  began 
to  exercise  over  the  councils  of  the  great — a  policy  of 
refined  stratagem — of  complicated  intrigue — of  sys- 
tematic falsehood — of  ruthless,  but  secret  violence :  a 
policy  which  actuated  the  fell  statecraft  of  Louis  XL, 
which  darkened,  whenever  he  paused  to  think  and  to 
scheme,  the  gaudy  and  jovial  character  of  Edward 
IV. ;  which  appeared  in  its  fullest  combination  of  pro- 
found guile  and  resolute  will  in  Richard  III.,  and, — 
softened  down  into  more  plausible  and  specious  pur- 
pose by  the  unimpassioned  sagacity  of  Henry  VII. — 
finally  attained  the  object  which  justified  all  its  villanies 
to  the  princes  of  its  native  land — namely,  the  tran- 
quillity of  a  settled  state,  and  the  establishment  of  a 
civilised  but  imperious  despotism. 

Again,  in  that  twilight  time,  upon  which  was  dawn- 
ing the  great  Invention  that  gave  to  Letters  and  to 
Science  the  precision  and  durability  of  the  printed 
page ;  it  is  interesting  to  conjecture  what  would  have 
been  the  fate  of  any  scientific  achievement  for  which 
the  world  was  less  prepared.  The  reception  of  print- 

*  For  it  is  noticeable  that  in  nearly  all  the  popular  risings — 
that  of  Cade,  of  Robin  of  Redesdale,  and  afterwards  of  that 
which  Perkin  Warbeck  made  subservient  to  his  extraordinary 
enterprise,  the  proclamations  of  the  rebels  always  announced, 
among  their  popular  grievances,  the  depression  of  the  ancient 
nobles  and  the  elevation  of  new  men. 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  xi 

ing  into  England,  chanced  just  at  the  happy  period 
when  Scholarship  and  Literature  were  favoured  by  the 
great.  The  princes  of  York,  with  the  exception  of 
Edward  IV.  himself,  who  had,  however,  the  grace  to 
lament  his  own  want  of  learning,  and  the  taste  to 
appreciate  it  in  others,  were  highly  educated.  The 
Lords  Rivers  and  Hastings*  were  accomplished  in  all 
the  "  witte  and  lere  "  of  their  age.  Princes  and  peers 
vied  with  each  other  in  their  patronage  of  Caxton, 
and  Richard  III.,  during  his  brief  reign,  spared  no 
pains  to  circulate  to  the  utmost  the  invention  destined 
to  transmit  his  own  memory  to  the  hatred  and  the 
horror  of  all  succeeding  time.  But  when  we  look 
around  us,  we  see,  in  contrast  to  the  gracious  and 
fostering  reception  of  the  mere  mechanism  by  which 
science  is  made  manifest,  the  utmost  intolerance  to 
science  itself.  The  mathematics  in  especial  are  deemed 
the  very  cabala  of  the  black  art — accusations  of  witch- 
craft were  never  more  abundant,  and  yet,  strange  to 
say,  those  who  openly  professed  to  practise  the  unhal- 
lowed science, f  and  contrived  to  make  their  deceptions 
profitable  to  some  unworthv  political  purpose,  appear 
to  have  enjoyed  safety,  and  sometimes  even  honour, 
while  those  who,  occupied  with  some  practical,  useful, 
and  noble  pursuits,  uncomprehended  bv  prince  or 
people,  denied  their  sorcery,  were  despatched  without 
mercy.  The  Mathematician  and  Astronomer,  Bolin- 
broke  (the  greatest  clerk  of  his  age),  is  hanged  and 
quartered  as  a  wizard,  while  not  only  impunity  but 
reverence  seems  to  have  awaited  a  certain  Friar  Bun- 
gey,  for  having  raised  mists  and  vapours,  which  great- 
ly befriended  Edward  IV.  at  the  battle  of  Barnet. 
Our  knowledge  of  the  intellectual  spirt  of  the  age, 

*  The  erudite  Lord  Worcester  had  been  one  of  Caxton's 
warmest  patrons,  but  that  nobleman  was  no  more,  at  the  time 
in  which  Printing  is  said  to  have  been  actually  introduced 
into  England. 

t  Nigromancy  or  Sorcery  even  took  its  place  amongst  the 
regular  callings.  Thus,  "  Thomas  Vandvke.  late  of  Cam- 
bridge," is  styled  (Rolls  Parl.  6,  p.  273)  Nigromancer,  as  his 
profession. — Sharon  Turner.  "  History  of  England,"  vol.  iv. 
p.  6.  Bucke,  "  History  of  Richard  III." 


xii  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

therefore,  only  becomes  perfect  when  we  contrast  the 
success  of  the  Impostor  with  the  fate  of  the  true 
Genius.  And  as  the  prejudices  of  the  populace  ran 
high  against  all  mechanical  contrivances  for  altering 
the  settled  conditions  of  labour,*  so,  probably,  in  the 
very  instinct  and  destiny  of  Genius,  which  ever  drive 
it  to  a  war  with  popular  prejudice,  it  would  be  towards 
such  contrivances  that  a  man  of  great  ingenuity  and 
intellect,  if  studying  the  physical  sciences,  would  direct 
his  ambition. 

Whether  the  author,  in  the  invention  he  has  as- 
signed to  his  philosopher  (Adam  Warner),  has  too 
boldly  assumed  the  possibility  of  a  conception  so  much 
in  advance  of  the  time,  they  who  have  examined  such 
of  the  works  of  Roger  Bacon  as  are  yet  given  to  the 
world,  can  best  decide;  but  the  assumption  in  itself 
belongs  strictly  to  the  most  acknowledged  preroga- 
tives of  Fiction ;  and  the  true  and  important  question 
will  obviously  be,  not  whether  Adam  Warner  could 
have  constructed  his  model,  but  whether,  having  so 
constructed  it,  the  fate  that  befell  him  was  probable 
and  natural. 

Such  characters  as  I  have  here  alluded  to,  seemed, 
then,  to  me,  in  meditating  the  treatment  of  the  high 
and  brilliant  subject  which  your  eloquence  animated 
me  to  attempt,  the  proper  Representatives  of  the  mul- 
tiform Truths  which  the  time  of  Warwick,  the  King- 
maker, affords  to  our  interests  and  suggests  for  our 
instruction;  and  I  can  only  wish  that  the  powers  of 
the  author  were  worthier  of  the  theme. 

It  is  necessary  that  I  now  state  briefly  the  founda- 
tion of  the  Historical  portions  of  this  narrative.  The 
charming  and  popular  History,  of  Hume,  which,  how- 

*  Even  in  the  article  of  bonnets  and  hats,  it  appears  that 
certain  wicked  Fulling  Mills  were  deemed  worthy  of  a  special 
anathema  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  These  engines  are  ac- 
cused of  having  sought,  "  by  subtle  imagination,"  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  original  makers  of  hats  and  bonnets,  "  by  man's 
strength — that  is.  with  hands  and  feet."  And  an  act  of  parlia- 
ment was  passed  (22nd  of  Edward  IV.)  to  put  down  the 
fabrication  of  the  said  hats  and  bonnets  by  Mechanical  con- 
trivance. 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  xiii 

ever,  in  its  treatment  of  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  is 
more  than  ordinarily  incorrect,  has  probably  left  upon 
the  minds  of  many  of  my  readers,  who  may  not  have 
directed  their  attention  to  more  recent  and  accurate 
researches  into  that  obscure  period,  an  erroneous  im- 
pression of  the  causes  which  led  to  the  breach  between 
Edward  IV.  and  his  great  kinsman  and  subject,  the 
Earl  of  Warwick.  The  general  notion  is  probably  still 
strong,  that  it  was  the  marriage  of  the  young  king  to 
Elizabeth  Gray,  during  Warwick's  negotiations  in 
France  for  the  alliance  of  Bona  of  Savoy  (sister-in-law 
to  Louis  XL),  which  exasperated  the  fiery  earl,  and 
induced  his  union  with  the  House  of  Lancaster.  All 
our  more  recent  historians  have  justly  rejected  this 
groundless  fable,  which  even  Hume  (his  extreme  pen- 
etration supplying  the  defects  of  his  superficial  re- 
search) admits  with  reserve.*  A  short  summary  of 
the  reasons  for  this  rejection  is  given  by  Dr.  Lingard, 
and  annexed  below,  f  And,  indeed,  it  is  a  matter  of 

* "  There  may  even  some  doubt  arise  with  regard  to  the 
proposal  of  marriage  made  to  Bona  of  Savoy,"  &c. — Hume, 
note  to  p.  222,  vol.  iii.  edit.  1825. 

t  "  Many  writers  tell  us  that  the  enmity  of  Warwick  arose 
from  his  disappointment,  caused  by  Edward's  clandestine  mar- 
riage with  Elizabeth.  If  we  may  believe  them,  the  earl  was  at 
the  very  time  in  France  negotiating  on  the  part  of  the  king  a 
marriage  with  Bona  of  Savoy,  sister  to  the  Queen  of  France; 
and  having  succeeded  in  his  mission,  brought  back  with  him 
the  Count  of  Dampmartin  as  ambassador  from  Louis.  To  me 
the  whole  story  appears  a  fiction,  i.  It  is  not  to  be  found  in 
the  more  ancient  historians.  2.  Warwick  was  not  at  the  time 
in  France.  On  the  20th  of  April,  ten  days  before  the  marriage, 
he  was  employed  in  negotiating  a  truce  with  the  French  en- 
voys in  London  (Rym.  xi.  521),  and  on  the  26th  of  May,  about 
three  weeks  after  it,  was  appointed  to  treat  of  another  truce 
with  the  King  of  Scots  (Rym.  xi.  424).  3.  Nor  could  he 
bring  Dampmartin  with  him  to  England.  For  that  nobleman 
was  committed  a  prisoner  to  the  Bastile  in  September,  1463, 
and  remained  there  till  May,  1465.  (Monstrel.  iii.  97,  109.) 
Three  contemporary  and  well-informed  writers,  the  two  con- 
tinuators  of  the  History  of  Croyland,  and  Wyrcester,  attribute 
his  discontent  to  the  marriages  and  honours  granted  to  the 
Wydeviles,  and  the  marriage  of  the  Princess  Margaret  with 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy." — Lingard,  vol.  iii.  c.  24,  p.  5,  19,  410 
edition. 


xiv  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

wonder  that  so  many  of  our  chroniclers  could  have 
gravely  admitted  a  legend  contradicted  by  all  the  sub- 
sequent conduct  of  Warwick  himself.  For  we  find  the 
earl  specially  doing  honour  to  the  publication  of  Ed- 
ward's marriage,  standing  godfather  to  his  first-born 
(the  Princess  Elizabeth),  employed  as  ambassador,  or 
acting  as  minister,  and  fighting  for  Edward,  and 
against  the  Lancastrians  during  the  five  years  that 
elapsed  between  the  coronation  of  Elizabeth  and  War- 
wick's rebellion. 

The  real  causes  of  this  memorable  quarrel,  in  which 
Warwick  acquired  his  title  of  King-maker,  appear  to 
have  been  these. 

It  is  probable  enough,  as  Sharon  Turner  suggests,* 
that  Warwick  was  disappointed  that,  since  Edward 
chose  a  subject  for  his  wife,  he  neglected  the  more  suit- 
able marriage  he  might  have  formed  with  the  earl's 
eldest  daughter:  and  it  is  impossible  but  that  the 
earl  should  have  greatly  chafed  in  common  with  all  his 
order,  by  the  promotion  of  the  queen's  relations,!  new 
men,  and  apostate  Lancastrians.  But  it  is  clear  that 
these  causes  for  discontent  never  weakened  his  zeal 
for  Edward  till  the  year  1467,  when  we  chance  upon 
the  true  origin  of  the  romance  concerning  Bona  of 
Savoy,  and  the  first  open  dissension  between  Edward 
and  the  earl. 

In  that  year  Warwick  went  to  France,  to  conclude 
an  alliance  with  Louis  XL,  and  to  secure  the  hand  of 
one  of  the  French  princes  \  for  Margaret,  sister  to 
Edward  IV.;  during  this  period,  Edward  received  the 
bastard  brother  of  Charles,  Count  of  Charolois,  after- 
wards Duke  of  Burgundy,  and  arranged  a  marriage 
between  Margaret  and  the  count. 

*  Sharon  Turner,  "  History  of  England,"  vol.  iii.  p.  269. 

t  W.  Wyr.  506,  7.     Croyl.  542. 

$  Which  of  the  princes  this  was  does  not  appear,  and  can 
scarcely  be  conjectured.  The  "  Pictorial  History  of  England  " 
(Book  v.  102),  in  a  tone  of  easy  decision,  says  "  it  was  one 
of  the  sons  of  Louis  XI."  But  Louis  had  no  living  sons  at 
all  at  the  time.  The  Dauphin  was  not  born  till  three  years 
afterwards.  The  most  probable  person  was  the  Duke  of 
Guienne,  Louis's  brother. 


XV 

Warwick's  embassy  was  thus  dishonoured,  and  the 
dishonour  was  aggravated  by  personal  enmity  to  the 
bridegroom  Edward  had  preferred.*  The  earl  retired 
in  disgust  to  his  castle.  But  Warwick's  nature,  which 
Hume  has  happily  described  as  one  of  "  undesigning 
frankness  and  openness,"  f  does  not  seem  to  have  long 
harboured  this  resentment.  By  the  intercession  of 
the  Archbishop  of  York  and  others,  a  reconciliation 
was  effected,  and  the  next  year,  1468,  we  find  War- 
wick again  in  favour,  and  even  so  far  forgetting  his 
own  former  cause  of  complaint  as  to  accompany  the 
procession  in  honour  of  Margaret's  nuptials  with  his 
private  foe.J  In  the  following  year,  however,  arose 
the  second  dissension  between  the  king  and  his  min- 
ister— viz.,  in  the  king's  refusal  to  sanction  the  mar- 
riage of  his  brother  Clarence  with  the  earl's  daughter 
Isabel,  a  refusal  which  was  attended  with  a  resolute 
opposition  that  must  greatly  have  galled  the  pride 
of  the  earl,  since  Edward  even  went  so  far  as  §  to 
solicit  the  pope  to  refuse  his  sanction,  on  the  ground 
of  relationship.  The  pope,  nevertheless,  grants  the 
dispensation,  and  the  marriage  takes  place  at  Calais. 
A  popular  rebellion  then  breaks  out  in  England. 
Some  of  Warwick's  kinsmen- — those,  however,  be- 
longing to  the  branch  of  the  Nevile  family  that  had 
always  been  Lancastrians,  and  at  variance  with  the 
earl's  party — are  found  at  its  head.  The  king,  who 

*  The  Croyland  Historian,  who,  as  far  as  his  brief  and  meagre 
record  extends,  is  the  best  authority  for  the  time  of  Edward 
IV.,  very  decidedly  states  the  Burgundian  alliance  to  be  the 
original  cause  of  Warwick's  displeasure,  rather  than  the  king's 
marriage  with  Elizabeth: — "Upon  which  (the  marriage  of 
Margaret  with  Charolois),  Richard  Nevile,  Earl  of  Warwick, 
who  had  for  so  many  years  taken  party  with  the  French  against 
the  Burgundians,  conceived  great  indignation ;  and  I  hold  this 
to  be  the  truer  cause  of  his  resentment,  than  the  king's  mar- 
riage with  Elizabeth,  for  he  had  rather  have  procured  a  hus- 
band for  the  aforesaid  Princess  Margaret  in  the  kingdom  of 
France."  The  Croyland  Hirtorian  also  speaks  emphatically  of 
the  strong  animosity  existing  between  Charolois  and  Warwick. 
— Cont.  Croyl.  551. 

(•  Hume,  "  Henry  VI.,"  vol.  iii.  p.  172,  edit.  1825. 

J  Lingard.  §  Carte.     Wm.  Wyre. 


xvi  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

is  in  imminent  danger,  writes  a  supplicating  letter  to 
Warwick  to  come  to  his  aid.*  The  earl  again  forgets 
former  causes  for  resentment,  hastens  from  Calais, 
rescues  the  king,  and  quells  the  rebellion  by  the  in- 
fluence of  his  popular  name. 

We  next  find  Edward  at  Warwick's  castle  of  Mid- 
dleham,  where,  according  to  some  historians,  he  is 
forcibly  detained,  an  assertion  treated  by  others  as  a 
contemptible  invention ;  but,  whatever  the  true  con- 
struction of  the  story,  we  find  that  Warwick  and  the 
king  are  still  on  such  friendly  terms,  that  the  earl 
marches  in  person  against  a  rebellion  on  the  borders 
— obtains  a  signal  victory — and  that  the  rebel  leader 
(the  earl's  own  kinsman)  is  beheaded  by  Edward  at 
York.  We  find  that,  immediately  after  this  supposed 
detention,  Edward  speaks  of  Warwick  and  his  brothers 
"  as  his  best  friends  "  f — that  he  betroths  his  eldest 
daughter  to  Warwick's  nephew,  the  male  heir  of  the 
family.  And  then  suddenly,  only  three  months  after- 
wards (in  Feb.  1470),  and  without  any  clear  and  ap- 
parent cause,  we  find  Warwick  in  open  rebellion, 
animated  by  a  deadly  hatred  to  the  king,  refusing, 
from  first  to  last,  all  overtures  of  conciliation ;  and  so 
determined  is  his  vengeance,  that  he  bows  a  pride, 
hitherto  morbidly  susceptible,  to  the  vehement  inso- 

*  "  Paston  Letters,"  cxcviii.  vol.  ii.,  Knight's  edition.  See 
Lingard,  c.  24,  for  the  true  date  of  Edward's  letters  to  War- 
wick, Clarence,  and  the  Archbishop  of  York. 

t "  Paston  Letters,"  cciv.  vol.  ii.,  Knight's  edition.  The 
date  of  this  letter,  which  puzzled  the  worthy  annotator,  is 
clearly  to  be  referred  to  Edward's  return  from  York,  after  his 
visit  to  Middleham  in  1469.  No  mention  is  therein  made  by 
the  gossiping  contemporary  of  any  rumour  that  Edward  had 
suffered  imprisonment.  He  enters  the  city  in  state,  as  having 
returned  safe  and  victorious  from  a  formidable  rebellion.  The 
letter  goes  on  to  say — "  The  king  himself  hath  [that  is,  holds] 
good  language  of  the  Lords  Clarence,  of  Warwick,  &c.,  say- 
ing, '  they  be  his  best  friends.'  "  Would  he  say  this  if  just 
escaped  from  a  prison?  Sir  John  Paston,  the  writer  of  the 
letter,  adds,  it  is  true,  "  But  his  household  men  have  [hold] 
other  language."  Very  probably,  for  the  household  men  were 
the  court  creatures  always  at  variance  with  Warwick,  and 
held,  no  doubt,  the  same  language  they  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  holding  before. 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  xvii 

lence  of  Margaret  of  Anjou,  and  forms  the  closest 
alliance  with  the  Lancastrian  party,  in  the  destruction 
of  which  his  whole  life  had  previously  been  employed.. 

Here,  then,  where  History  leaves  us  in  the  dark 
— where  our  curiosity  is  the  most  excited,  Fiction 
gropes  amidst  the  ancient  chronicles,  and  seeks  to 
detect  and  to  guess  the  truth.  And  then,  Fiction,  ac- 
customed to  deal  with  the  human  heart,  seizes  upon 
the  paramount  importance  of  a  Fact  which  the  modern 
historian  has  been  contented  to  place  amongst  dubious 
and  collateral  causes  of  dissension.  We  find  it  broadly 
and  strongly  stated,  by  Hall  and  others,  that  Edward 
had  coarsely  attempted  the  virtue  of  one  of  the  earl's 
female  relations.  "  And  farther  it  erreth  not  from 
the  truth,"  says  Hall,  "  that  the  king  did  attempt  a 
thing  once  in  the  earl's  house,  which  was  much  against 
the  earl's  honesty ; — but  whether  it  was  the  daughter 
or  the  niece,"  adds  the  chronicler,  "  was  not,  for  both 
their  honours,  openly  known ;  but  surely  such  a  thing 
was  attempted  by  King  Edward,"  &c. 

Any  one  at  all  familiar  with  Hall  (and,  indeed,  with 
all  our  principal  chroniclers,  except  Fabyan)  will  not 
expect  any  accurate  precision  as  to  the  date  he  assigns 
for  the  outrage.  He  awards  to  it,  therefore,  the  same 
date  he  erroneously  gives  to  Warwick's  other  grudges 
(viz.  a  period  brought  some  years  lower  by  all  judi- 
cious historians), — a  date  at  which  Warwick  was  still 
Edward's  fastest  friend. 

Once  grant  the  probability  of  this  insult  to  the  earl 
(the  probability  is  conceded  at  once  by  the  more  re- 
cent historians,  and  received  without  scruple  as  a  fact 
by  Rapin,  Habington,  and  Carte),  and  the  whole  ob- 
scurity which  involves  this  memorable  quarrel  van- 
ishes at  once.  Here  was,  indeed,  a  wrong  never  to  be 
forgiven,  and  yet  never  to  be  proclaimed.  As  Hall  im- 
plies, the  honour  of  the  earl  was  implicated  in  hushing 
the  scandal,  and  the  honour  of  Edward  in  concealing 
the  offence. — That,  if  ever  the  insult  were  attempted, 
it  must  have  been  just  previous  to  the  earl's  declared 
hostility,  is  clear.  Offences  of  that  kind  hurry  men  to 


xviii  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

immediate  action  at  the  first,  or  else,  if  they  stoop  to 
dissimulation,  the  more  effectually  to  avenge  after- 
wards, the  outbreak  bides  its  seasonable  time.  But 
the  time  selected  by  the  earl  for  his  outbreak  was  the 
very  worst  he  could  have  chosen,  and  attests  the  in- 
fluence of  a  sudden  passion — a  new  and  uncalculated 
cause  of  resentment.  He  had  no  forces  collected — 
he  had  not  even  sounded  his  own  brother-in-law,  Lord 
Stanley  (since  he  was  uncertain  of  his  intentions), 
while,  but  a  few  months  before,  had  he  felt  any  desire 
to  dethrone  the  king,  he  could  either  have  suffered 
him  to  be  crushed  by  the  popular  rebellion  the  earl 
himself  had  quelled,  or  have  disposed  of  his  person 
as  he  pleased  when  a  guest  at  his  own  castle  of  Mid- 
dleham.  His  evident  want  of  all  preparation  and  fore- 
thought— a  want  which  drove  into  rapid  and  compul- 
sory flight  from  England  the  baron  to  whose  banner, 
a  few  months  afterwards,  flocked  sixty  thousand  men 
— proves  that  the  cause  of  his  alienation  was  fresh  and 
recent. 

If,  then,  the  cause  we  have  referred  to,  as  mentioned 
by  Hall  and  others,  seems  the  most  probable  we  can 
find  (no  other  cause  for  such  abrupt  hostility  being  dis- 
cernible), the  date  for  it  must  be  placed  where  it  is  in 
this  work — viz.,  just  prior  to  the  earl's  revolt.  The 
next  question  is,  who  could  have  been  the  lady  thus 
offended,  whether  a  niece  or  daughter ;  scarcely  a 
niece.  For  Warwick  had  one  married  brother,  Lord 
Montagu,  and  several  sisters;  but  the  sisters  were 
married  to  lords  who  remained  friendly  to  Edward,* 
and  Montagu  seems  to  have  had  no  daughter  out  of 
childhood,  f  while  that  nobleman  himself  did  not  share 

*  Except  the  sisters  married  to  Lord  Fitzhugh  and  Lord  Ox- 
ford. But  though  Fitzhugh,  or  rather  his  son,  broke  into 
rebellion,  it  was  for  some  cause  in  which  Warwick  did  not 
sympathise,  for  by  Warwick  himself  was  that  rebellion  put 
down ;  nor  could  the  aggrieved  lady  have  been  a  daughter  of 
Lord  Oxford's,  for  he  was  a  stanch,  though  not  avowed,  Lan- 
castrian, and  seems  to  have  carefully  kept  aloof  from  the  court. 

t  Montagu's  wife  could  have  been  little  more  than  thirty  at 
the  time  of  his  death.  She  married  again,  and  had  a  family 
by  her  second  husband 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  xix 

Warwick's  rebellion  at  the  first,  but  continued  to  enjoy 
the  confidence  of  Edward.  We  cannot  reasonably, 
then,  conceive  the  uncle  to  have  been  so  much  more 
revengeful  than  the  parents — the  legitimate  guardians 
of  the  honour  of  a  daughter.  It  is,  therefore,  more 
probable  that  the  insulted  maiden  should  have  been 
one  of  Lord  Warwick's  daughters,  and  this  is  the  gen- 
eral belief.  Carte  plainly  declares  it  was  Isabel.  But 
Isabel  it  could  hardly  have  been ;  she  was  then  married 
to  Edward's  brother,  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  with- 
in a  month  of  her  confinement.  The  earl  had  only  one 
other  daughter,  Anne,  then  in  the  flower  of  her  youth  ; 
and  though  Isabel  appears  to  have  possessed  a  more 
striking  character  of  beauty,  Anne  must  have  had  no 
inconsiderable  charms  to  have  won  the  love  of  the 
Lancastrian  Prince  Edward,  and  to  have  inspired  a 
tender  and  human  affection  in  Richard  Duke  of 
Gloucester.*  It  is  also  noticeable,  that  when,  not  as 

*  Not  only  does  Majerus,  the  Flemish  annalist,  speak  of 
Richard's  early  affection  to  Anne,  but  Richard's  pertinacity 
in  marrying  her,  at  a  time  when  her  family  was  crushed  and 
fallen,  seems  to  sanction  the  assertion.  True,  that  Richard 
received  her  with  a  considerable  portion  of  the  estates  of  her 
parents.  But  both  Anne  herself  and  her  parents  were  attainted, 
and  the  whole  property  at  the  disposal  of  the  crown.  Richard 
at  that  time  had  conferred  the  most  important  services  on 
Edward.  He  had  remained  faithful  to  him  during  the  re- 
bellion of  Clarence — he  had  been  the  hero  of  the  day  both  at 
Barnet  and  Tewksbury.  His  reputation  was  then  exceedingly 
high,  and  if  he  had  demanded,  as  a  legitimate  reward,  the 
lands  of  Middleham,  without  the  bride,  Edward  could  not  well 
have  refused  them.  He  certainly  had  a  much  better  claim  than 
the  only  other  competitor  for  the  confiscated  estates — viz.,  the 
perjured  and  despicable  Clarence.  For  Anne's  reluctance  to 
marry  Richard,  and  the  disguise  she  assumed,  see  Miss  Strick- 
land's "  Life  of  Anne  of  Warwick."  For  the  honour  of  Anne, 
rather  than  of  Richard,  to  whose  memory,  one  crime  more  or 
less,  matters  but  little,  it  may  here  be  observed,  that  so  far 
fiom  there  being  any  ground  to  suppose  that  Gloucester  was 
an  accomplice  in  the  assassination  of  the  young  prince  Edward 
of  Lancaster,  there  is  some  ground  to  believe  that  that  prince 
was  not  assassinated  at  all,  but  died  (as  we  would  fain  hope 
the  grandson  of  Henry  V.  did  die)  fighting  manfully  in  the 
field. — "  Harleian  MSS. :"  Stowe,  "  Chronicle  of  Tewksbury;" 
Sharon  Turner,  vol.  iii.  p.  335. 


xx  DEDICATORY    EPISTLE 

Shakspeare  represents,  but  after  long  solicitation,  and 
apparently  by  positive  coercion,  Anne  formed  her 
second  marriage,  she  seems  to  have  been  kept  care- 
fully by  Richard  from  his  gay  brother's  court,  and 
rarely,  if  ever,  to  have  appeared  in  London  till  Edward 
was  no  more. 

That  considerable  obscurity  should  always  rest 
upon  the  facts  connected  with  Edward's  meditated 
crime — that  they  should  never  be  published  amongst 
the  grievances  of  the  haughty  rebel,  is  natural  from  the 
very  dignity  of  the  parties,  and  the  character  of  the 
offence — that  in  such  obscurity,  sober  History  should 
not  venture  too  far  on  the  hypothesis  suggested  by 
the  chronicler,  is  right  and  laudable.  But  probably 
it  will  be  conceded  by  all,  that  here  Fiction  finds  its 
lawful  province,  and  that  it  may  reasonably  help,  by 
no  improbable  nor  groundless  conjecture,  to  render 
connected  and  clear  the  most  broken  and  the  darkest 
fragments  of  our  annals. 

I  have  judged  it  better  partially  to  forestall  the  in- 
terest of  the  reader  in  my  narrative,  by  stating  thus 
openly  what  he  may  expect,  than  to  encounter  the  far 
less  favourable  impression  (if  he  had  been  hitherto  a 
believer  in  the  old  romance  of  Bona  of  Savoy*),  that 
the  author  was  taking  an  unwarrantable  liberty  with 
the  real  facts,  when,  in  truth,  it  is  upon  the  real  facts, 
as  far  as  they  can  be  ascertained,  that  the  author  has 
built  his  tale,  and  his  boldest  inventions  are  but  deduc- 
tions from  the  amplest  evidence  he  could  collect. 
Nay,  he  even  ventures  to  believe,  that  whoever  here- 
after shall  write  the  history  of  Edward  IV.  will  not 
disdain  to  avail  himself  of  some  suggestions  scattered 
throughout  these  volumes,  and  tending  to  throw  new 
light  upon  the  events  of  that  intricate  but  important 
period. 

*  I  say,  the  old  romance  of  Bona  of  Savoy — so  far  as  Ed- 
ward's rejection  of  her  hand  for  that  of  Elizabeth  Gray,  is 
stated  to  have  made  the  cause  of  his  quarrel  with  Warwick. 
But  I  do  not  deny  the  possibility  that  such  a  marriage  had 
been  contemplated  and  advised  by  Warwick,  though  he  neither 
sought  to  negotiate  it,  nor  was  wronged  by  Edward's  preference 
of  his  fair  subject. 


XXI 

It  is  probable  that  this  work  will  prove  more  popular 
in  its  nature  than  my  last  fiction  of  "  Zanoni,"  which 
could  only  be  relished  by  those  interested  in  the  ex- 
amination of  the  various  problems  in  human  life  which 
it  attempts  to  solve.  But  both  fictions,  however  dif- 
ferent and  distinct  their  treatment,  are  constructed  on 
those  principles  of  art  to  which,  in  all  my  later  works, 
however  imperfect  my  success,  I  have  sought  at  least 
steadily  to  adhere. 

To  my  mind,  a  writer  should  sit  down  to  compose 
a  fiction  as  a  painter  prepares  to  compose  a  picture. 
His  first  care  should  be  the  conception  of  a  whole  as 
lofty  as  his  intellect  can  grasp — as  harmonious  and 
complete  as  his  art  can  accomplish ;  his  second  care, 
the  character  of  the  interest  which  the  details  are  in- 
tended to  sustain. 

It  is  when  we  compare  works  of  imagination  in  writ- 
ing, with  works  of  imagination  on  the  canvas,  that  we 
can  best  form  a  critical  idea  of  the  different  schools 
which  exist  in  each ;  for  common  both  to  the  author 
and  the  painter  are  those  styles  which  we  call  the 
Familiar,  the  Picturesque,  and  the  Intellectual.  By 
recurring  to  this  comparison  we  can,  without  much 
difficulty,  classify  works  of  Fiction  in  their  proper 
order,  and  estimate  the  rank  they  should  severally 
hold.  The  Intellectual  will  probably  never  be  the  most 
widely  popular  for  the  moment.  He  who  prefers  to 
study  in  this  school  must  be  prepared  for  much  depre- 
ciation, for  its  greatest  excellences,  even  if  he  achieve 
them,  are  not  the  most  obvious  to  the  many.  In  dis- 
cussing, for  instance,  a  modern  work,  we  hear  it 
praised,  perhaps,  for  some  striking  passage,  some 
prominent  character ;  but  when  do  we  ever  hear  any 
comment  on  its  harmony  of  construction,  on  its  fulness 
of  design,  on  its  ideal  character, — on  its  essentials,  in 
short,  as  a  work  of  art?  What  we  hear  most  valued 
in  the  picture,  we  often  find  the  most  neglected  in  the 
book — viz.,  the  composition;  and  this,  simply,  because 
in  England  painting  is  recognised  as  an  art,  and  esti- 
mated according  to  definite  theories.  But  in  literature, 
we  judge  from  a  taste  never  formed — from  a  thousand 


xxii  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

prejudices  and  ignorant  predilections.  We  do  not  yet 
comprehend  that  the  author  is  an  artist,  and  that  the 
true  rules  of  art  by  which  he  should  be  tested  are 
precise  and  immutable.  Hence  the  singular  and  fan- 
tastic caprices  of  the  popular  opinion — its  exaggera- 
tions of  praise  or  censure — its  passion  and  reaction. 
At  one  while,  its  solemn  contempt  for  Wordsworth — 
at  another,  its  absurd  idolatry.  At  one  while,  we  are 
stunned  by  the  noisy  celebrity  of  Byron — at  another, 
we  are  calmly  told  that  he  can  scarcely  be  called  a 
poet.  Each  of  these  variations  in  the  public  is  im- 
plicitly followed  by  the  vulgar  criticism ;  and  as  a  few 
years  back  our  journals  vied  with  each  other  in  ridi- 
culing Wordsworth  for  the  faults  which  he  did  not 
possess,  they  vie  now  with  each  other  in  eulogiums 
upon  the  merits  which  he  has  never  displayed. 

These  violent  fluctuations  betray  both  a  public  and  a 
criticism  utterly  unschooled  in  the  elementary  prin- 
ciples of  literary  art,  and  entitle  the  humblest  author 
to  dispute  the  censure  of  the  hour,  while  they  ought 
to  render  the  greatest  suspicious  of  its  praise. 

It  is,  then,  in  conformity,  not  with  any  presumptu- 
ous conviction  of  his  own  superiority,  but  with  his 
common  experience  and  common  sense,  that  every 
author  who  addresses  an  English  audience  in  serious 
earnest  is  permitted  to  feel  that  his  final  sentence  rests 
not  with  the  jury  before  which  he  is  first  heard.  The 
literary  history  of  the  day  consists  of  a  series  of  judg- 
ments set  aside. 

But  this  uncertainty  must  more  essentially  betide 
every  student,  however  lowly,  in  the  school  I  have 
called  the  Intellectual,  which  must  ever  be  more  or 
less  at  variance  with  the  popular  canons ;  it  is  its  hard 
necessity  to  vex  and  disturb  the  lazy  quietude  of  vulgar 
taste,  for  unless  it  did  so,  it  could  neither  elevate  nor 
move.  He  who  resigns  the  Dutch  art  for  the  Italian 
must  continue  through  the  dark  to  explore  the  prin- 
ciples upon  which  he  founds  his  design — to  which  he 
adapts  his  execution:  in  hope  or  in  despondence,  still 
faithful  to  the  theory  which  cares  less  for  the  amount 
of  interest  created  than  for  the  sources  from  which 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  xxiii 

the  interest  is  to  be  drawn — seeking  in  action  the 
movement  of  the  grander  passions,  or  the  subtler 
springs  of  conduct — seeking  in  repose  the  colouring 
of  intellectual  beauty. 

The  Low  and  the  High  of  Art  are  not  very  readily 
comprehended;  they  depend  not  upon  -the  worldly 
degree  or  the  physical  condition  of  the  characters 
delineated;  they  depend  entirely  upon  the  quality  of 
the  emotion  which  the  characters  are  intended  to  ex- 
cite— viz.,  whether  of  sympathy  for  something  low, 
or  of  admiration  for  something  high.  There  is  noth- 
ing high  in  a  boor's  head  by  Teniers — there  is  nothing 
low  in  a  boor's  head  by  Guido.  What  makes  the  dif- 
ference between  the  two? — The  absence  or  presence 
of  the  Ideal!  But  every  one  can  judge  of  the  merit  of 
the  first — for  it  is  of  the  Familiar  school — it  requires 
a  connoisseur  to  see  the  merit  of  the  last,  for  it  is  of 
the  Intellectual. 

I  have  the  less  scrupled  to  leave  these  remarks  to 
cavil  or  to  sarcasm,  because  this  fiction  is  probably  the 
last  with  which  I  shall  trespass  upon  the  Public,  and  I 
am  desirous  that  it  shall  contain,  at  least,  my  avowal 
of  the  principles  upon  which  it  and  its  later  prede- 
cessors have  been  composed :  you  know  well,  however 
others  may  dispute  the  fact,  the  earnestness  with  which 
those  principles  have  been  meditated  and  pursued, — 
with  high  desire,  if  but  with  poor  results. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  feel  that  the  aim,  which  I  value 
more  than  the  success,  is  comprehended  by  one  whose 
exquisite  taste  as  a  critic  is  only  impaired  by  that  far 
rarer  quality — the  disposition  to  oz^r-estimate  the  per- 
son you  profess  to  esteem!  Adieu,  my  sincere  and 
valued  friend  ;  and  accept,  as  a  mute  token  of  gratitude 
and  regard,  these  flowers  gathered  in  the  Garden 
where  we  have  so  often  roved  together. 

E.  L.  B. 

LONDON, 

January,  1843. 


PREFACE 

TO  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

This  was  the  first  attempt  of  the  Author  in  His- 
torical Romance  upon  English  ground.  Nor  would 
he  have  risked  the  disadvantage  of  comparison  with 
the  genius  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  had  he  not  believed 
that  that  great  writer  and  his  numerous  imitators  had 
left  altogether  unoccupied  the  peculiar  field  in  His- 
torical Romance  which  the  Author  has  here  sought 
to  bring  into  cultivation.  In  "The  Last  of  the  Barons," 
as  in  "  Harold,"  the  aim  has  been  to  illustrate  the 
actual  history  of  the  period;  and  to  bring  into  fuller 
display  than  general  History  itself  has  done,  the  char- 
acters of  the  principal  personages  of  the  time, — the 
motives  by  which  they  were  probably  actuated — the 
state  of  parties, — the  condition  of  the  people, — and 
the  great  social  interests  which  were  involved  in  what, 
regarded  imperfectly,  appear  but  the  feuds  of  rival 
factions. 

"  The  Last  of  the  Barons  "  has  been  by  many  es- 
teemed the  best  of  the  Author's  romances ;  and  per- 
haps in  the  portraiture  of  actual  character,  and  the 
grouping  of  the  various  interests  and  agencies  of  the 
time,  it  may  have  produced  effects  which  render  it 
more  vigorous  and  life-like  than  any  of  the  other  at- 
tempts in  romance  by  the  same  hand. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  purely  imaginary  char- 
acters introduced  are  very  few;  and,  however  promi- 
nent they  may  appear,  still,  in  order  not  to  interfere 
with  the  genuine  passions  and  events  of  history,  they 
are  represented  as  the  passive  sufferers,  not  the  active 
agents,  of  the  real  events.  Of  these  imaginary  char- 


xxvi  PREFACE 

acters,  the  most  successful  is  Adam  Warner,  the 
philosopher  in  advance  of  his  age ;  indeed,  as  an  ideal 
portrait,  I  look  upon  it  as  the  most  original  in  con- 
ception, and  the  most  finished  in  execution,  of  any  to 
be  found  in  my  numerous  prose  works,  "  Zanoni  " 
alone  excepted. 

For  the  rest,  I  venture  to  think  that  the  general 
reader  will  obtain  from  these  pages  a  better  notion  of 
the  important  age,  characterised  by  the  decline  of  the 
feudal  system,  and  immediately  preceding  that  great 
change  in  society  which  we  usually  date  from  the 
accession  of  Henry  VII.,  than  he  could  otherwise 
gather  without  wading  through  a  vast  mass  of  neg- 
lected chronicles  and  antiquarian  dissertations. 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  I 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  MASTER  MARMADUKE  NEVILE 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.    The  Pastime-Ground  of  Old  Cockaigne  I 

II.     The  Broken  Cittern 20 

III.  The  Trader  and  the   Gentle;    or,  The  Changing 

Generation 33 

IV.  Ill  Fares  the  Country  Mouse  in  the  Traps  of  Town    44 
V.    Weal  to  the  Idler — Woe  to  the  Workman      .        .    53 

VI.    Master  Marmaduke  Nevile  Fears  for  the  Spiritual 

Weal  of  his  Host  and  Hostess    .        .        .        .    75 
VII.     There  is  a  Rod  for  the  Back  of  every  Fool  who 

would  be  Wiser  than  his  Generation          .        .    83 
VIII.     Master   Marmaduke   Nevile   Makes   Love   and  is 

Frightened 96 

IX.     Master  Marmaduke   Nevile  Leaves   the  Wizard's 

House  for  the  Great  World        ....  104 


BOOK  II 
THE  KING'S  COURT 

I.    Earl  Warwick  the  King-Maker Ill 

II.     King  Edward  the  Fourth 131 

III.    The  Antechamber 144 


xxviii  CONTENTS 


BOOK  III 

IN  WHICH  THE  HISTORY  PASSES  FROM  THE  KING'S  COURT  TO 
THE  STUDENT'S  CELL,  AND  RELATES  THE  PERILS  THAT 
BEFELL  A  PHILOSOPHER  FOR  MEDDLING  WITH  THE  AFFAIRS 
OF  THE  WORLD 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.     The  Solitary  Sage  and  the  Solitary  Maid      .        .  152 

II.     Master  Adam   Warner  Grows  a  Miser,  and  Be- 
haves Shamefully 155 

III.  A  Strange  Visitor— All  Ages  of  the  World  Breed 

World-Betters 163 

IV.  Lord  Hastings 175 

V.     Master  Adam  Warner  and  King  Henry  the  Sixth  181 

VI.     How,    on    Leaving   King    Log,    Foolish    Wisdom 

Runs  A-Muck  on  King  Stork    ....  197 

VII.  My  Lady  Duchess's  Opinion  of  the  Utility  of  Mas- 
ter Warner's  Invention,  and  her  Esteem  for 
its — Explosion! 21 1 

VIII.  The  Old  Woman  Talks  of  Sorrows — The  Young 
Woman  Dreams  of  Love — The  Courtier  Flies 
from  Present  Power  to  Remembrances  of  Past 
Hopes — And  the  World-Betterer  Opens  Utopia, 
with  a  View  of  the  Gibbet  for  the  Silly  Sage 
he  has  Seduced  into  his  Schemes — So,  Ever  and 
Evermore,  Runs  the  World  Away !  .  .  .  215 

IX.    How   the   Destructive   Organ    of   Prince   Richard 

Promises  Goodly  Development    ....  224 


CONTENTS  xxix 


BOOK  IV 
INTRIGUES  OF  THE  COURT  OF  EDWARD  IV 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.     Margaret  of  Anjou 233 

II.     Ih  which  are  Laid  Open  to  the  Reader  the  Char- 
«   acter  of   Edward   the  Fourth  and  that  of   his 
Court,    with   the    Machinations   of    the   Wood- 
villes  against  the  Earl  of  Warwick    .        .        .  240 

III.  Wherein  Master  Nicholas  Alwyn  Visits  the  Court, 

and  there  Learns  Matter  of  which  the  Acute 
Reader  will  Judge  for  Himself  ....  253 

IV.  Exhibiting   the    Benefits    which    Royal    Patronage 

Confers  on  Genius.  Also  the  Early  Loves  of 
the  Lord  Hastings ;  with  Other  Matters  Edify- 
ing and  Delectable 261 

V.  The  Woodville  Intrigue  Prospers — Montagu  Con- 
fers with  Hastings — Visits  the  Archbishop  of 
York,  and  is  Met  on  the  Road  by  a  Strange 
Personage 268 

VI.  The  Arrival  of  the  Count  de  la  Roche,  and  the 
Various  Excitement  Produced  on  Many  Per- 
sonages by  that  Event 285 

VII.    The    Renowned    Combat    between    Sir    Anthony 

Woodville  and  the  Bastard  of  Burgundy   .        .  309 

VIII.  How  the  Bastard  of  Burgundy  Prospered  more  in 
his  Policy  than  with  the  Pole- Axe — And  how 
King  Edward  Holds  his  Summer  Chase  in  the 
Fair  Groves  of  Shene 318 

IX.    The  Great  Actor  Returns  to  Fill  the  Stage    .        .  330 

X.    How  the  Great  Lords  Come  to  the  King-Maker, 

and  with  what  Proffers 339 


xxx  CONTENTS 


BOOK  V 
THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  IN  HIS  FATHER'S  HALLS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.     Rural  England  in  the  Middle  Ages — Noble  Visitors 

Seek  the  Castle  of  Middleham       ....  346 

II.     Councils  and  Musings          ......  356 

III.  The  Sisters 360 

IV.  The  Destrier  .       .        .        .369 


BOOK   VI 

HEREIN  ARE  OPENED  SOME  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  FATE,  BELOW, 
THAT  ATTENDS  THOSE  WHO  ARE  BETTER  THAN  OTHERS,  AND 
THOSE  WHO  DESIRE  TO  MAKE  OTHERS  BETTER.  LOVE, 
DEMAGOGUY,  AND  SCIENCE  ALL  EQUALLY  OFFSPRING  OF  THE 
SAME  PROLIFIC  DELUSION — viz.,  THAT  MEAN  SOULS  (THE 
EARTH'S  MAJORITY)  ARE  WORTH  THE  HOPE  AND  THE  AGONY 
OF  NOBLE  SOULS,  THE  EVERLASTINGLY  SUFFERING  AND  AS- 
PIRING FEW 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.     New  Dissensions 378 

II.  The  Would-Be  Improvers  of  Jove's  Foot-Ball, 
Earth— The  Sad  Father  and  the  Sad  Child— 
The  Fair  Rivals 387 

III.  Wherein  the  Demagogue  Seeks  the  Courtier  .        .  400 

IV.  Sibyll 406 

V.     Katherine 411 

VI.    Joy  for  Adam,  and  Hope  for  Sibyll— And  Popular 

Friar  Bungey!        » 416 

VII.    A  Love  Scene 422 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  noble  animal  reared  again Frontispiece 

Facing 
page 

"  My  poor  father,  thou  hast  not  tasted  bread  to-day."    .    .    64 


"  I  come  but  to  bid  you  fly." 234 

"  King !    there  is  not  a  hair  on  this  head  which  thy  whole 
house  could  dare  to  touch." 336 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 


BOOK    I 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  MASTER  MARMADUKE 
NEVILE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   PASTIME-GROUND  OF  OLD   COCKAIGNE 

Westward,  beyond  the  still  pleasant,  but,  even 
then,  no  longer  solitary,  hamlet  of  Charing,  a  broad 
space,  broken  here  and  there  by  scattered  houses  and 
venerable  pollards,  in  the  early  spring  of  1467,  pre- 
sented the  rural  scene  for  the  sports  and  pastimes 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Westminster  and  London. 
Scarcely  need  we  say  that  open  spaces  for  the  popular 
games  and  diversions  were  then  numerous  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  metropolis.  Grateful  to  some,  the 
fresh  pools  of  Islington;  to  others,  the  grass-bare 
fields  of  Finsbury ;  to  all,  the  edgeless  plains  of  vast 
Mile-end.  But  the  site  to  which  we  are  now  sum- 
moned was  a  new  and  maiden  holiday-ground,  lately 
bestowed  upon  the  townsfolk  of  Westminster  by  the 
powerful  Earl  of  Warwick. 

Raised  by  a  verdant  slope  above  the  low  marsh- 
grown  soil  of  Westminster,  the  ground  communi- 
cated to  the  left  with  the  Brook-fields,  through  which 
stole  the  peaceful  Ty-bourne,  and  commanded  pros- 
VOL.  I.— i 


2  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

pects,  on  all  sides  fair,  and  on  each  side  varied.  Be- 
hind, rose  the  twin  green  hills  of  Hampstead  and 
Highgate,  with  the  upland  park  and  chase  of  Mary- 
bone — its  stately  manor-house  half  hid  in  woods.  In 
front  might  be  seen  the  Convent  of  the  Lepers,  dedi- 
cated to  St.  James — now  a  palace ;  then,  to  the  left, 
York  House,*  now  Whitehall ;  farther  on,  the  spires 
of  Westminster  Abbey  and  the  gloomy  tower  of  the 
Sanctuary ;  next,  the  Palace,  with  its  bulwark  and 
vawmure,  soaring  from  the  river;  while,  eastward, 
and  nearer  to  the  scene,  stretched  the  long  bush- 
grown  passage  of  the  Strand,  picturesquely  varied 
with  bridges,  and  flanked  to  the  right  by  the  embat- 
tled halls  of  feudal  nobles,  or  the  inns  of  the  no  less 
powerful  prelates, — while  sombre  and  huge,  amidst 
hall  and  inn,  loomed  the  gigantic  ruins  of  the  Savoy, 
demolished  in  the  insurrection  of  Wat  Tyler.  Farther 
on,  and  farther  yet,  the  eye  wandered  over  tower,  and 
gate,  and  arch,  and  spire  with  frequent  glimpses  of 
the  broad  sunlit  river,  and  the  opposite  shore  crowned 
by  the  palace  of  Lambeth,  and  the  church  of  St.  Mary 
Overies,  till  the  indistinct  cluster  of  battlements 
around  the  Fortress-Palatine  bounded  the  curious 
gaze.  As  whatever  is  new  is  for  a  while  popular,  so 
to  this  pastime-ground,  on  the  day  we  treat  of, 
flocked,  not  only  the  idlers  of  Westminster,  but  the 
lordly  dwellers  of  Ludgate  and  the  Flete,  and  the 
wealthy  citizens  of  tumultuous  Chepe. 

The  ground  was  well  suited  to  the  purpose  to  which 
it  was  devoted.  About  the  outskirts,  indeed,  there 
were  swamps  and  fish-pools ;  but  a  considerable  plot 
towards  the  centre  presented  a  level  sward,  already 
worn  bare  and  brown  by  the  feet  of  the  multitude. 

*  The  residence  of  the  Archbishops  of  York. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  3 

From  this,  towards  the  left,  extended  alleys,  some  re- 
cently planted,  intended  to  afford,  in  summer,  cool 
and  shady  places  for  the  favourite  game  of  bowls; 
while  scattered  clumps,  chiefly  of  old  pollards,  to  the 
right,  broke  the  space  agreeably  enough  into  de- 
tached portions,  each  of  which  afforded  its  separate 
pastime  or  diversion.  Around  were  ranged  many 
carts,  or  waggons — horses  of  all  sorts  and  value  were 
led  to  and  fro,  while  their  owners  were  at  sport. 
Tents,  awnings,  hostelries — temporary  buildings — 
stages  for  showmen  and  jugglers — abounded,  and 
gave  the  scene  the  appearance  of  a  fair.  But  what 
particularly  now  demands  our  attention  was  a  broad 
ploL  in  the  ground,  dedicated  to  the  noble  diversion 
of  archery.  The  reigning  house  of  York  owed  much 
of  its  military  success  to  the  superiority  of  the  bow- 
men under  its  banners,  and  the  Londoners  themselves 
were  jealous  of  their  reputation  in  this  martial  accom- 
plishment. For  the  last  fifty  years,  notwithstanding 
the  warlike  nature  of  the  times,  the  practice  of  the 
bow,  in  the  intervals  of  peace,  had  been  more  neg- 
lected than  seemed  wise  to  the  rulers.  Both  the  king 
and  his  loyal  city  had  of  late  taken  much  pains  to  en- 
force the  due  exercise  of  "  Goddes  instrumente,"  * 
upon  which  an  edict  had  declared  that  "  the  liberties 
and  honour  of  England  principally  rested ! " 

And  numerous  now  was  the  attendance,  not  only 
of  the  citizens,  the  burghers,  and  the  idle  populace, 
but  of  the  gallant  nobles  who  surrounded  the  court 
of  Edward  IV.,  then  in  the  prime  of  his  youth;  the 
handsomest,  the  gayest,  and  the  bravest  prince  in 
Christendom. 

*  So  called  emphatically  by  Bishop  Latimer,  in  his  celebrated 
Sixth  Sermon. 


4  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

The  royal  tournaments  (which  were,  however,  wan- 
ing from  their  ancient  lustre  to  kindle  afresh,  and  to 
expire  in  the  reigns  of  the  succeeding  Tudors),  re- 
stricted to  the  amusements  of  knight  and  noble,  no 
doubt  presented  more  of  pomp  and  splendour  than 
the  motley  and  mixed  assembly  of  all  ranks  that  now 
grouped  around  the  competitors  for  the  silver  arrow, 
or  listened  to  the  itinerant  jongleur,  dissour,  or  min- 
strel;— or,  seated  under  the  stunted  shade  of  the  old 
trees,  indulged  with  eager  looks,  and  hands  often 
wandering  to  their  dagger-hilts,  in  the  absorbing  pas- 
sion of  the  dice ;  but  no  later  and  earlier  scenes  of 
revelry  ever,  perhaps,  exhibited  that  heartiness  of  en- 
joyment, that  universal  holiday,  which  attended  this 
mixture  of  every  class,  that  established  a  rude  equality 
for  the  hour — between  the  knight  and  the  retainer, 
the  burgess  and  the  courtier. 

The  revolution  that  placed  Edward  IV.  upon  the 
throne  had,  in  fact,  been  a  popular  one.  Not  only  had 
the  valour  and  moderation  of  his  father,  Richard, 
Duke  of  York,  bequeathed  a  heritage  of  affection  to 
his  brave  and  accomplished  son — not  only  were  the 
most  beloved  of  the  great  barons  the  leaders  of  his 
party — but  the  king  himself,  partly  from  inclination, 
partly  from  policy,  spared  no  pains  to  win  the  good 
graces  of  that  slowly  rising,  but  even  then  important 
part  of  the  population — the  Middle  Class.  He  was 
the  first  king  who  descended,  without  loss  of  dignity 
and  respect,  from  the  society  of  his  peers  and  princes, 
to  join  familiarly  in  the  feasts  and  diversions  of  the 
merchant  and  the  trader.  The  lord  mayor  and  coun- 
cil of  London  were  admitted,  on  more  than  one  sol- 
emn occasion,  into  the  deliberations  of  the  court ;  and 
Edward  had  not  long  since,  on  the  coronation  of  his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  5 

queen,  much  to  the  discontent  of  certain  of  his  barons, 
conferred  the  knighthood  of  the  Bath  upon  four  of 
the  citizens.  On  the  other  hand,  though  Edward's 
gallantries — the  only  vice  which  tended  to  diminish 
his  popularity  with  the  sober  burgesses — were  little 
worthy  of  his  station,  his  frank,  joyous  familiarity  with 
his  inferiors,  was  not  debased  by  the  buffooneries  that 
had  led  to  the  reverses  and  the  awful  fate  of  two  of 
his  royal  predecessors.  There  must  have  been  a  pop- 
ular principle,  indeed,  as  well  as  a  popular  fancy,  in- 
volved in  the  steady  and  ardent  adherence  which  the 
population  of  London,  in  particular,  and  most  of  the 
great  cities,  exhibited  to  the  person  and  the  cause  of 
Edward  IV.  There  was  a  feeling  that  his  reign  was 
an  advance,  in  civilization,  upon  the  monastic  virtues 
of  Henry  VI.,  and  the  stern  ferocity  which  accom- 
panied the  great  qualities  of  "The  Foreign  Woman," 
as  the  people  styled  and  regarded  Henry's  consort, 
Margaret  of  Anjou.  While  thus  the  gifts,  the  cour- 
tesy, and  the  policy  of  the  young  sovereign  made  him 
popular  with  the  middle  classes,  he  owed  the  alle- 
giance of  the  more  powerful  barons  and  the  favour  of 
the  rural  population  to  a  man  who  stood  colossal 
amidst  the  iron  images  of  the  Age — the  greatest  and 
the  last  of  the  old  Norman  chivalry — kinglier  in  pride, 
in  state,  in  possessions,  and  in  renown,  than  the  king 
himself — Richard  Nevile,  Earl  of  Salisbury  and  War- 
wick. 

This  princely  personage,  in  the  full  vigour  of  his 
age,  possessed  all  the  attributes  that  endear  the  noble 
to  the  commons.  His  valour  in  the  field  was  accom- 
panied with  a  generosity  rare  in  the  captains  of  the 
time.  He  valued  himself  on  sharing  the  perils  and  the 
hardships  of  his  meanest  soldier.  His  haughtiness  to 


6  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  great  was  not  incompatible  with  frank  affability 
to  the  lowly.  His  wealth  was  enormous,  but  it  was 
equalled  by  his  magnificence,  and  rendered  popular 
by  his  lavish  hospitality.  No  less  than  thirty  thousand 
persons  are  said  to  have  feasted  daily  at  the  open 
tables  with  which  he  allured  to  his  countless  castles 
the  strong  hands  and  grateful  hearts  of  a  martial  and 
unsettled  population.  More  haughty  than  ambitious, 
he  was  feared  because  he  avenged  all  affront;  and 
yet  not  envied,  because  he  seemed  above  all  favour. 

The  holiday  on  the  Archery-ground  was  more  than 
usually  gay,  for  the  rumour  had  spread  from  the  court 
to  the  city  that  Edward  was  about  to  increase  his 
power  abroad,  and  to  repair  what  he  had  lost  in  the 
eyes  of  Europe,  through  his  marriage  with  Elizabeth 
Gray — by  allying  his  sister  Margaret  with  the  brother 
of  Louis  XL,  and  that  no  less  a  person  than  the  Earl 
of  Warwick  had  been  the  day  before  selected  as  am- 
bassador on  the  important  occasion. 

Various  opinions  were  entertained  upon  the  prefer- 
ence given  to  France  in  this  alliance,  over  the  rival 
candidate  for  the  hand  of  the  princess — viz.,  the  Count 
de  Charolois,  afterwards  Charles  the  Bold,  Duke  of 
Burgundy. 

"  By'r  Lady,"  said  a  stout  citizen  about  the  age  of 
fifty,  "  but  I  am  not  over  pleased  with  this  French 
marriage-making !  I  would  liefer  the  stout  earl  were 
going  to  France  with  bows  and  bills,  than  sarcenets 
and  satins.  What  will  become  of  our  trade  with 
Flanders — answer  me  that,  Master  Stokton?  The 
house  of  York  is  a  good  house,  and  the  king  is  a 
good  king,  but  trade  is  trade.  Every  man  must  draw 
water  to  his  own  mill." 

"Hush,  Master  Heyford !  "  said  a  small  lean  man 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  7 

in  a  light-grey  surcoat.  "  The  king  loves  not  talk 
about  what  the  king  does.  'Tis  ill  jesting  with  lions. 
Remember  William  Walker  hanged  for  saying  his  son 
should  be  heir  to  the  Crown." 

"  Troth,"  answered  Master  Heyford,  nothing 
daunted,  for  he  belonged  to  one  of  the  most  powerful 
corporations  of  London — "  it  was  but  a  scurvy  Pep- 
perer*  who  made  that  joke.  But  a  joke  from  a 
worshipful  goldsmith,  who  has  moneys  and  influence, 
and  a  fair  wife  of  his  own,  whom  the  king  himself  has 
been  pleased  to  commend,  is  another  guess  sort  of 
matter.  But  here  is  my  grave-visaged  headman,  who 
always  contrives  to  pick  up  the  last  gossip  astir,  and 
has  a  deep  eye  into  mill-stones.  Why,  ho,  there !  Al- 
wyn — I  say,  Nicholas  Alwyn ! — who  would  have 
thought  to  see  thee  with  that  bow,  a  good  half-ell 
taller  than  thyself?  Methought  thou  wert  too  sober 
and  studious  for  such  man-at-arms  sort  of  devilry." 

"  An'  it  please  you,  Master  Heyford,"  answered  the 
person  thus  addressed — a  young  man,  pale  and  lean, 
though  sinewy  and  large-boned,  with  a  countenance 
of  great  intelligence,  but  a  slow  and  somewhat  formal 
manner  of  speech,  and  a  strong  provincial  accent — 
"  An'  it  please  you,  King  Edward's  edict  ordains 
every  Englishman  to  have  a  bow  of  his  own  height; 
and  he  who  neglects  the  shaft  on  a  holiday,  forfeiteth 
one  halfpenny  and  some  honour.  For  the  rest,  me- 
thinks  that  the  citizens  of  London  will  become  of 
more  worth  and  potency  every  year;  and  it  shall  not 
be  my  fault  if  I  do  not,  though  but  a  humble  head- 
man to  your  worshipful  mastership,  help  to  make 
them  so." 

"  Why,  that's  well  said,  lad ;  but  if  the  Londoners 
*  Old  name  for  Grocer. 


8  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

prosper,  it  is  because  they  have  nobles  in  their  gip- 
sires,*  not  bows  in  their  hands." 

"  Thinkest  thou,  then,  Master  Heyford,  that  any 
king  at  a  pinch  would  leave  them  the  gipsire,  if  they 
could  not  protect 'it  with  the  bow?  That  Age  may 
have  gold,  let  not  Youth  despise  iron." 

"  Body  o'  me !  "  cried  Master  Heyford,  "  but  thou 
hadst  better  curb  in  thy  tongue.  Though  I  have  my 
jest — as  a  rich  man  and  a  corpulent — a  lad  who  has 
his  way  to  make  good  should  be  silent  and — but  he's 
gone." 

"  Where  hooked  you  up  that  young  jack-fish  ?  " 
said  Master  Stokton,  the  thin  mercer,  who  had  re- 
minded the  goldsmith  of  the  fate  of  the  grocer. 

"  Why,  he  was  meant  for  the  cowl,  but  his  mother, 
a  widow,  at  his  own  wish,  let  him  make  choice  of  the 
flat  cap.  He  was  the  best  'prentice  ever  I  had.  By 
the  blood  of  St.  Thomas,  he  will  push  his  way  in  good 
time ;  he  has  a  head,  Master  Stokton — a  head — and 
an  ear;  and  a  great  big  pair  of  eyes  always  looking 
out  for  something  to  his  proper  advantage." 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  goldsmith's  headman  had 
walked  leisurely  up  to  the  Archery-ground  ;  and  even 
in  his  gait  and  walk,  as  he  thus  repaired  to  r  pastime, 
there  was  something  steady,  staid,  and  business- 
like. 

The  youths  of  his  class  and  calling  were  at  that  day 
very  different  from  their  equals  in  this.  Many  of' 
them  the  sons  of  provincial  retainers,  some  even  of 
franklins  and  gentlemen,  their  childhood  had  made 
them  familiar  with  the  splendour  and  the  sports  of 
knighthood;  they  had  learned  to  wrestle,  to  i'  .'dgel, 
to  pitch  the  bar  or  the  quoit,  to  draw  the  bow,  and  to 
*  Gipsire,  a  kind  of  pouch  worn  at  the  girdle. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  9 

practise  the  sword  and  buckler,  before  transplanted 
from  the  village  green  to  the  city  stall.  And,  even 
then,  the  constant  broils  and  wars  of  the  time — the 
example  of  their  betters — the  holiday  spectacle  of 
mimic  strife — and,  above  all,  the  powerful  and  cor- 
porate association  they  formed  among  themselves — 
tended  to  make  them  as  wild,  as  jovial,  and  as  disso- 
lute a  set  of  young  fellows  as  their  posterity  are  now 
sober,  careful,  and  discreet.  And  as  Nicholas  Alwyn, 
with  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head,  passed  by,  two 
or  three  loud,  swaggering,  bold-looking  groups  of  ap- 
prentices— their  shaggy  hair  streaming  over  their 
shoulders — their  caps  on  one  side — their  short  cloaks 
of  blue,  torn  or  patched,  though  still  passably  new — 
their  bludgeons  under  their  arms — and  their  whole 
appearance  and  manner  not  very  dissimilar  from  the 
German  collegians  in  the  last  century — notably  con- 
trasted Alwyn's  prim  dress,  his  precise  walk,  and  the 
feline  care  with  which  he  stepped  aside  from  any 
patches  of  mire  that  might  sully  the  soles  of  his 
square-toed  shoes. 

The  idle  apprentices  winked  and  whispered,  and 
lolled  out  their  tongues  at  him  as  he  passed.  "  Oh ! 
but  tha,t  must  be  as  good  as  a  May-Fair  day — sober 
Nick  Alwyn's  maiden  flight  of  the  shaft.  Hollo,  puis- 
sant archer,  take  care  of  the  goslings  yonder !  Look 
this  way  when  thou  pull'st,  and  then  woe  to  the  other 
side !  "  Venting  these  and  many  similar  specimens 
of  the  humour  of  Cockaigne,  the  apprentices,  how- 
ever, followed  their  quondam  colleague,  and  elbowed 
their  way  into  the  crowd  gathered  around  the  com- 
pe  "  ors  at  the  butts;  and  it  was  at  this  spot,  com- 
manding a  view  of  the  whole  space,  that  the  spectator 
might  well  have  formed  some  notion  of  the  vast  fol- 


io  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

lowing  of  the  house  of  Nevile.  For  everywhere  along 
the  front  lines — everywhere  in  the  scattered  groups — 
might  be  seen,  glistening  in  the  sunlight,  the  armorial 
badges  of  that  mighty  family.  The  Pied  Bull,  which 
was  the  proper  cognizance*  of  the  Neviles,  was  prin- 
cipally borne  by  the  numerous  kinsmen  of  Earl  War- 
wick, who  rejoiced  in  the  Nevile  name.  The  Lord 
Montagu,  Warwick's  brother,  to  whom  the  king  had 
granted  the  forfeit  title  and  estates  of  the  earls  of 
Northumberland,  distinguished  his  own  retainers, 
however,  by  the  special  crest  of  the  ancient  Montagus 
— a  Gryphon  issuant  from  a  ducal  crown.  But  far 
more  numerous  than  Bull  or  Gryphon  (numerous  as 
either  seemed)  were  the  badges  borne  by  those  who 
ranked  themselves  among  the  peculiar  followers  of  the 
great  Earl  of  Warwick : — The  cognizance  of  the  Bear 
and  Ragged  Staff,  which  he  assumed  in  right  of  the 
Beauchamps,  whom  he  represented  through  his  wife, 
the  heiress  of  the  lords  of  Warwick,  was  worn  in  the 
hats  of  the  more  gentle  and  well-born  clansmen  and 
followers,  while  the  Ragged  Staff  alone  was  worked 
front  and  back  on  the  scarlet  jackets  of  his  more 
humble  and  personal  retainers.  It  was  a  matter  of 
popular  notice  and  admiration,  that  in  those  who  wore 
these  badges,  as  in  the  wearers  of  the  hat  and  staff  of 
the  ancient  Spartans,  might  be  traced  a  grave  lofti- 
ness of  bearing,  as  if  they  belonged  to  another  caste 
— another  race,  than  the  herd  of  men.  Near  the  place 
where  the  rivals  for  the  silver  arrow  were  collected, 
a  lordly  party  had  reined  in  their  palfreys,  and  con- 
versed with  each  other,  as  the  judges  of  the  field 
were  marshalling  the  competitors. 

*  The  Pied  Bull  the  cognizance— the  Dun  Bull's  head  the 
crest. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  11 

"  Who,"  said  one  of  these  gallants,  "  who  is  that 
comely  young  fellow  just  below  us,  with  the  Nevile 
cognizance  of  the  Bull  on  his  hat?  He  has  the  air 
of  one  I  should  know." 

"  I  never  saw  him  before,  my  Lord  of  Northum- 
berland," answered  one  of  the  gentlemen  thus  ad- 
dressed, "  but,  pardieu,  he  who  knows  all  the  Neviles 
by  eye,  must  know  half  England."  The  Lord  Mon- 
tagu, for  though  at  that  moment  invested  with  the 
titles  of  the  Percy,  by  that  name  Earl  Warwick's 
brother  is  known  to  history,  and  by  that,  his  rightful 
name,  he  shall  therefore  be  designated  in  these  pages ; 
— the  Lord  Montagu  smiled  graciously  at  this  re- 
mark, and  a  murmur  through  the  crowd  announced 
that  the  competition  for  the  silver  arrow  was  about 
to  commence.  The  butts,  formed  of  turf,  with  a  small 
white  mark  fastened  to  the  centre  by  a  very  minute 
peg,  were  placed  apart,  one  at  each  end,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  eleven  score  yards.  At  the  extremity,  where 
the  shooting  commenced,  the  crowd  assembled,  tak- 
ing care  to  keep  clear  from  the  opposite  butt,  as  the 
warning  word  of  "  Fast  "  was  thundered  forth ;  but 
eager  was  the  general  murmur,  and  many  were  the 
wagers  given  and  accepted,  as  some  well-known 
archer  tried  his  chance.  Near  the  butt,  that  now 
formed  the  target,  stood  the  marker  with  his  white 
wand ;  and  the  rapidity  with  which  archer  after  archer 
discharged  his  shaft,  and  then,  if  it  missed,  hurried 
across  the  ground  to  pick  it  up-  (for  arrows  were  dear 
enough  not  to  be  lightly  lost),  amidst  the  jeers  and 
laughter  of  the  bystanders,  was  highly  animating  and 
diverting.  As  yet,  however,  no  marksman  had  hit 
the  white,  though  many  had  gone  close  to  it,  when 
Nicholas  Alwyn  stepped  forward;  and  there  was 


12  THE  LAS!   OF  THE  BARONS 

something  so  unwarlike  in  his  whole  air,  so  prim  in 
his  gait,  so  careful  in  his  deliberate  survey  of  the  shaft, 
and  his  precise  adjustment  of  the  leathern  gauntlet 
that  protected  the  arm  from  the  painful  twang  of  the 
string,  that  a  general  burst  of  laughter  from  the  by- 
standers attested  their  anticipation  of  a  signal  fail- 
ure. 

"  'Fore  heaven !  "  said  Montagu,  "  he  handles  his 
bow  an'  it  were  a  yard  measure.  One  would  think  he 
were  about  to  bargain  for  the  bow-string,  he  eyes  it 
so  closely." 

"  And  now,"  said  Nicholas,  slowly  adjusting  the 
arrow,  "  a  shot  for  the  honour  of  old  Westmoreland  !  " 
And  as  he  spoke,  the  arrow  sprang  gallantly  forth, 
and  quivered  in  the  very  heart  of  the  white.  There 
was  a  general  movement  of  surprise  among  the  specta- 
tors, as  the  marker  thrice  shook  his  wand  over  his 
head.  But  Alwyn,  as  indifferent  to  their  respect  as 
he  had  been  to  their  ridicule,  turned  round  and  said, 
with  a  significant  glance  at  the  silent  nobles,  "  We 
springals  of  London  can  take  care  of  our  own,  if  need 
be." 

"  These  fellows  wax  insolent.  Our  good  king 
spoils  them,"  said  Montagu,  with  a  curl  of  his  lip. 
"  I  wish  some  young  squire  of  gentle  blood  would 
not  disdain  a  shot  for  the  Nevile  against  the  crafts- 
man. How  say  you,  fair  sir?  "  And,  with  a  princely 
courtesy  of  mien  and  smile,  Lord  Montagu  turned  to 
the  young  man  he  had  noticed,  as  wearing  the  cog- 
nizance of  the  First  House  in  England.  The  bow 
was  not  the  customary  weapon  of  the  well-born ;  but 
still,  in  youth,  its  exercise  formed  one  of  the  accom- 
plishments of  the  future  knight,  and  even  princes  did 
not  disdain,  on  a  popular  holiday,  to  match  a  shaft 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  13 

against  the  yeoman's  cloth-yard.*  The  young  man 
thus  addressed,  and  whose  honest,  open,  handsome, 
hardy  face  augured  a  frank  and  fearless  nature,  bowed 
his  head  in  silence,  and  then  slowly  advancing  to  the 
umpires,  craved  permission  to  essay  his  skill,  and 
to  borrow  the  loan  of  a  shaft  and  bow.  Leave  given 
and  the  weapons  lent — as  the  young  gentleman  took 
his  stand,  his  comely  person,  his  dress,  of  a  better 
quality  than  that  of  the  competitors  hitherto,  and, 
above  all,  the  Nevile  badge  worked  in  silver  on  his 
hat,  diverted  the  general  attention  from  Nicholas  Al- 
wyn.  A  mob  is  usually  inclined  to  aristocratic  pre- 
dilections, and  a  murmur  of  goodwill  and  expectation 
greeted  him,  when  he  put  aside  the  gauntlet  offered 
to  him,  and  said,  "  In  my  youth  I  was  taught  so  to 
brace  the  bow  that  the  string  should  not  touch  the 
arm :  and  though  eleven  score  yards  be  but  a  boy's 
distance,  a  good  archer  will  lay  his  body  into  his 
bow  f  as  much  as  if  he  were  to  hit  the  blanc  four  hun- 
dred yards  away." 

"  A  tall  fellow  this  !  "  said  Montagu  ;  "  and  one,  I 
wot,  from  the  North,"  as  the  young  gallant  fitted  the 
shaft  to  the  bow.  And  graceful  and  artistic  was  the 
attitude  he  assumed,  the  head  slightly  inclined,  the 
feet  firmly  planted,  the  left  a  little  in  advance,  and 
the  stretched  sinews  of  the  bow-hand  alone  evincing 
that  into  that  grasp  was  pressed  the  whole  strength 

*  At  a  later  period,  Henry  VIII.  was  a  match  for  the  best 
bowman  in  his  kingdom.  His  accomplishment  was  hereditary, 
and  distinguished  alike  his  wise  father  and  his  pious  son. 

t  "  My  father  taught  me  to  lay  my  body  in  my  bow,"  &c., 
said  Latimer,  in  his  well-known  sermon  before  Edward.  VI. — 
1549.  The  Bishop  also  herein  observes,  that  "  it  is  best  to  give 
the  bow  so  much  bending  that  the  string  need  never  touch  the 
arm.  This,"  he  adds,  "  is  practised  by  many  good  archers 
with  whom  I  am  acquainted." 


14  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

of  the  easy  and  careless  frame.  The  public  expecta- 
tion was  not  disappointed — the  youth  performed  the 
feat  considered  of  all  the  most  dexterous,  his  arrow 
disdaining  the  white  mark,  struck  the  small  peg  which 
fastened  it  to  the  butts,  and  which  seemed  literally 
invisible  to  the  bystanders. 

"  Holy  St.  Dunstan !  there's  but  one  man  who  can 
beat  me  in  that  sort  that  I  know  of,"  muttered  Nicho- 
las, "  and  I  little  expected  to  see  him  take  a  bite  out 
of  his  own  hip."  With  that  he  approached  his  suc- 
cessful rival. 

"  Well,  Master  Marmaduke,"  said  he,  "  it  is  many 
a  year  since  you  showed  me  that  trick  at  your  father, 
Sir  Guy's — God  rest  him!  But  I  scarce  take  it  kind 
in  you  to  beat  your  own  countryman ! " 

"  Beshrew  me !  "  cried  the  youth,  and  his  cheerful 
features  brightened  into  hearty  and  cordial  pleasure : 
"  but  if  I  see  in  thee,  as  it  seems  to  me,  my  old  friend 
and  foster-brother,  Nick  Alwyn,  this  is  the  happiest 
hour  I  have  known  for  many  a  day.  But  stand  back 
and  let  me  look  at  thee,  man.  Thou !  thou  a  tame 
London  trader !  Ha !  ha ! — is  it  possible  ?  " 

"  Hout,  Master  Marmaduke,"  answered  Nicholas, 
"  every  crow  thinks  his  own  baird  bonniest,  as  they 
say  in  the  North.  We  will  talk  of  this  anon,  an'  thou 
wilt  honour  me.  I  suspect  the  archery  is  over  now. 
Few  will  think  to  mend  that  shot." 

And  here,  indeed,  the  umpires  advanced,  and  their 
chief — an  old  mercer,  who  had  once  borne  arms,  and 
indeed  been  a  volunteer  at  the  battle  of  Teuton — 
declared  that  the  contest  was  over,  "  unless,"  he 
added,  in  the  spirit  of  a  lingering  fellow-feeling  with 
the  Londoner,  "  this  young  fellow,  whom  I  hope  to 
see  an  alderman  one  of  these  days,  will  demand  an- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  15 

other  shot,  for  as  yet  there  hath  been  but  one  prick 
each  at  the  butts." 

"  Nay,  master,"  returned  Alwyn,  "  I  have  met  with 
my  betters— and,  after  all,"  he  added,  indifferently, 
"  the  silver  arrow,  though  a  pretty  bauble  enough,  is 
over  light  in  its  weight." 

"  Worshipful  sir,"  said  the  young  Nevile,  with 
equal  generosity,  "  I  cannot  accept  the  prize  for  a 
mere  trick  of  the  craft — the  blanc  was  already  dis- 
posed of  by  Master  Alwyn's  arrow.  Moreover,  the 
contest  was  intended  for  the  Londoners,  and  I  am 
but  an  interloper  —  beholden  to  their  courtesy  for 
a  practice  of  skill — and  even  the  loan  of  a  bow — 
wherefore  the  silver  arrow  be  given  to  Nicholas 
Alwyn." 

"  That  may  not  be,  gentle  sir,"  said  the  umpire,  ex- 
tending the  prize.  "  Sith  Alwyn  vails  of  himself,  it 
is  thine,  by  might  and  by  right." 

The  Lord  Montagu  had  not  been  inattentive  to 
this  dialogue,  and  he  now  said,  in  a  loud  tone  that 
silenced  the  crowd,  "  Young  Badgeman,  thy  gallantry 
pleases  me  no  less  than  thy  skill.  Take  the  arrow, 
for  thou  hast  won  it;  but  as  thou  seemest  a  new 
comer,  it  is  right  thou  shouldst  pay  thy  tax  upon  en- 
try— this  be  my  task.  Come  hither,  I  pray  thee,  good 
sir,"  and  the  nobleman  graciously  beckoned  to  the 
mercer;  "be  these  five  nobles  the  prize  of  whatever 
Londoner  shall  acquit  himself  best  in  the  bold  Eng- 
lish combat  of  quarter-staff,  and  the  prize  be  given  in 
this  young  archer's  name.  Thy  name,  youth?" 

"  Marmaduke  Nevile,  good  my  lord." 

Montagu  smiled,  and  the  umpire  withdrew  to  make 
the  announcement  to  the  bystanders.  The  proclama- 
tion was  received  with  a  shout  that  traversed  from 


16  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

group  to  group,  and  line  to  line,  more  hearty  from  the 
love  and  honour  attached  to  the  name  of  Nevile,  than 
even  from  a  sense  of  the  gracious  generosity  of  Earl 
Warwick's  brother.  One  man  alone,  a  sturdy,  well- 
knit  fellow,  in  a  franklin's  Lincoln  broadcloth,  and 
with  a  hood  half-drawn  over  his  features,  did  not  join 
the  popular  applause,  "  These  Yorkists,"  he  mut- 
tered, "  know  well  how  to  fool  the  people." 

Meanwhile,  the  young  Nevile  still  stood  by  the 
gilded  stirrup  of  the  great  noble  who  had  thus  hon- 
oured him,  and  contemplated  him  with  that  respect 
and  interest  which  a  youth's  ambition  ever  feels  for 
those  who  have  won  a  name. 

The  Lord  Montagu  bore  a  very  different  character 
from  his  puissant  brother.  Though  so  skilful  a  cap- 
tain, that  he  had  never  been  known  to  lose  a  battle, 
his  fame  as  a  warrior  was,  strange  to  say,  below  that 
of  the  great  earl,  whose  prodigious  strength  had  ac- 
complished those  personal  feats  that  dazzled  the 
populace,  and  revived  the  legendary  renown  of  the 
earlier  Norman  knighthood.  The  caution  and  wari- 
ness indeed  which  Montagu  displayed  in  battle,  prob- 
ably caused  his  success  as  a  general,  and  the  injustice 
done  to  him  (at  least  by  the  vulgar)  as  a  soldier. 
Rarely  had  Lord  Montagu,  though  his  courage  was 
indisputable,  been  known  to  mix  personally  in  the 
affray.  Like  the  captains  of  modern  times,  he  con- 
tented himself  with  directing  the  manoeuvres  of  his 
men,  and  hence  preserved  that  inestimable  advantage 
of  coolness  and  calculation,  which  was  not  always 
characteristic  of  the  eager  hardihood  of  his  brother. 
The  character  of  Montagu  differed  yet  more  from  that 
of  the  earl  in  peace  than  in  war.  He  was  supposed 
to  excel  in  all  those  supple  arts  of  the  courtier,  which 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  17 

Warwick  neglected  or  despised ;  and  if  the  last  was, 
on  great  occasions,  the  adviser,  the  other,  in  ordinary 
life,  was  the  companion  of  his  sovereign.  Warwick 
owed  his  popularity  to  his  own  large,  open,  daring, 
and  lavish  nature.  The  subtler  Montagu  sought  to 
win,  by  care  and  pains,  what  the  other  obtained  with- 
out an  effort.  He  attended  the  various  holiday  meet- 
ings of  the  citizens,  where  Warwick  was  rarely  seen. 
He  was  smooth-spoken  and  courteous  to  his  equals, 
and  generally  affable,  though  with  constraint,  to  his 
inferiors.  He  was  a  close  observer,  and  not  without 
that  genius  for  intrigue,  which  in  rude  ages  passes  for 
the  talent  of  a  statesman.  And  yet  in  that  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  habits  and  tastes  of  the  great  mass, 
which  gives  wisdom  to  a  ruler,  he  was  far  inferior  to 
the  earl.  In  common  with  his  brother,  he  was  gifted 
with  the  majesty  of  mien  which  imposes  on  the  eye, 
and  his  port  and  countenance  were  such  as  became 
the  prodigal  expense  of  velvet,  minever,  gold,  and 
jewels,  by  which  the  gorgeous  magnates  of  the  day 
communicated  to  their  appearance  the  arrogant 
splendour  of  their  power.  "  Young  gentleman,"  said 
the  earl,  after  eyeing  with  some  attention  the  comely 
archer,  "  I  am  pleased  that  you  bear  the  name  of 
Nevile.  Vouchsafe  to  inform  me  to  what  scion  of 
our  house  we  are  this  day  indebted  for  the  credit  with 
which  you  have  upborne  its  cognizance  ?  " 

"  I  fear,"  answered  the  youth,  with  a  slight  but  not 
ungraceful  hesitation,  "  that  my  lord  of  Montagu  and 
Northumberland  will  hardly  forgive  the  presumption 
with  which  I  have  intruded  upon  this  assembly  a  name 
borne  by  nobles  so  illustrious,  especially  if  it  belong 
to  those  less  fortunate  branches  of  his  family  which 
have  taken  a  different  side  from  himself  in  the  late 
VOL.  I.— 2 


1 8  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

unhappy  commotions.  My  father  was  Sir  Guy 
Nevile,  of  Arsdale,  in  Westmoreland." 

Lord  Montagu's  lip  lost  its  gracious  smile — he 
glanced  quickly  at  the  courtiers  round  him,  and  said 
gravely — "  I  grieve  to  hear  it.  Had  I  known  this, 
certes  my  gipsire  had  still  been  five  nobles  the  richer. 
It  becomes  not  one  fresh  from  the  favour  of  King  Ed- 
ward IV.  to  show  countenance  to  the  son  of  a  man, 
kinsman  though  he  was,  who  bore  arms  for  the 
usurpers  of  Lancaster.  I  pray  thee,  sir,  to  doff,  hence- 
forth, a  badge  dedicated  only  to  the  service  of  Royal 
York.  No  more,  young  man ;  we  may  not  listen  to 

the  son  of  Sir  Guy  Nevile. Sirs,  shall  we  ride  to 

see  how  the  Londoners  thrive  at  quarter-staff?" 

With  that,  Montagu,  deigning  no  farther  regard  at 
Nevile,  wheeled  his  palfrey  towards  a  distant  part  of 
the  ground,  to  which  the  multitude  was  already  press- 
ing its  turbulent  and  noisy  way. 

"Thou  art  hard  on  thy  namesake,  fair  my  lord," 
said  a  young  noble,  in  whose  dark-auburn  hair,  aqui- 
line haughty  features,  spare  but  powerful  frame,  and 
inexpressible  air  of  authority  and  command,  were 
found  all  the  attributes  of  the  purest  and  eldest  Nor- 
man race — the  Patricians  of  the  World. 

"  Dear  Raoul  de  Fulke,"  returned  Montagu,  coldly, 
"  when  thou  hast  reached  my  age  of  thirty  and  four, 
thou  wilt  learn  that  no  man's  fortune  casts  so  broad 
a  shadow  as  to  shelter  from  the  storm  the  victims 
of  a  fallen  cause." 

"  Not  so  would  say  thy  bold  brother,"  answered 
Raoul  de  Fulke,  with  a  slight  curl  of  his  proud  lip. 
"  And  I  hold,  with  him,  that  no  king  is  so  sacred  that 
we  should  render  to  his  resentments  our  own  kith  and 
kin.  God's  wot,  whosoever  wears  the  badge,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  19 

springs  from  the  stem,  of  Raoul  de  Fulke,  shall  never 
find  me  question  overmuch  whether  his  father  fought 
for  York  or  Lancaster." 

"  Hush,  rash  babbler ! "  said  Montagu,  laughing 
gently ;  "  what  would  King  Edward  say  if  this  speech 
reached  his  ears?  Our  friend,"  added  the  courtier, 
turning  to  the  rest,  "  in  vain  would  bar  the  tide  of 
change ;  and  in  this  our  New  England,  begirt  with 
new  men  and  new  fashions,  affect  the  feudal  baronage 
of  the  worn-out  Norman.  But  thou  art  a  gallant 
knight,  De  Fulke,  though  a  poor  courtier." 

"  The  saints  keep  me  so,"  returned  De  Fulke. 
"  From  over-gluttony,  from  over  wine-bibbing,  from 
cringing  to  a  king's  leman,  from  quaking  at  a  king's 
frown,  from  unbonneting  to  a  greasy  mob,  from  mar- 
rying an  old  crone  for  vile  gold,  may  the  saints  ever 
keep  Raoul  de  Fulke  and  his  sons  !  Amen  !  " 

This  speech,  in  which  every  sentence  struck  its  sting- 
ing satire  into  one  or  other  of  the  listeners,  was  suc- 
ceeded by  an  awkward  silence,  which  Montagu  was 
the  first  to  break. 

"  Pardieu !  "  he  said,  "  when  did  Lord  Hastings 
leave  us?  and  what  fair  face  can  have  lured  the 
truant?" 

"  He  left  us  suddenly  on  the  archery-ground,"  an- 
swered the  young  Lovell.  "  But  as  well  might  we 
track  the  breeze  to  the  rose,  as  Lord  William's  sigh 
to  maid  or  matron." 

While  thus  conversed  the  cavaliers,  and  their 
plumes  waved,  and  their  mantles  glittered  along  the 
broken  ground,  Marmaduke  Nevile's  eye  pursued  the 
horsemen  with  all  that  bitter  feeling  of  wounded  pride 
and  impotent  resentment  with  which  Youth  regards 
the  first  insult  it  receives  from  Power. 


20  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

CHAPTER  II 

THE   BROKEN    CITTERN 

Rousing  himself  from  his  indignant  reverie,  Mar- 
maduke  Nevile  followed  one  of  the  smaller  streams 
into  which  the  crowd  divided  itself  on  dispersing  from 
the  archery-ground,  and  soon  found  himself  in  a  part 
of  the  holiday  scene  appropriated  to  diversions  less 
manly,  but  no  less  characteristic  of  the  period  than 
those  of  the  staff  and  arrow.  Beneath  an  awning, 
under  which  an  itinerant  landlord  dispensed  cakes  and 
ale,  the  humorous  Bourdour  (the  most  vulgar  degree 
of  minstrel,  or  rather  tale-teller)  collected  his  clown- 
ish audience,  while  seated  by  themselves — apart,  but 
within  hearing — two  harpers,  in  the  king's  livery,  con- 
soled each  other  for  the  popularity  of  their  ribald 
rival,  by  wise  reflections  on  the  base  nature  of  com- 
mon folk.  Farther  on,  Marmaduke  started  to  behold 
what  seemed  to  him  the  heads  of  giants  at  least  six 
yards  high ;  but  on  a  nearer  approach,  these  formid- 
able apparitions  resolved  themselves  to  a  company  of 
dancers  upon  stilts.  There,  one  joculator,  exhibited 
the  antics  of  his  well-tutored  ape — there,  another 
eclipsed  the  attractions  of  the  baboon  by  a  marvellous 
horse,  that  beat  a  tabor  with  his  fore  feet — there  the 
more  sombre  Tregetour,  before  a  table  raised  upon 
a  lofty  stage,  promised  to  cut  off  and  refix  the  head 
of  a  sad-faced  little  boy,  who,  in  the  meantime  was 
preparing  his  mortal  frame  for  the  operation  by  ap- 
parently larding  himself  with  sharp  knives  and  bod- 
kins. Each  of  these  wonder-dealers  found  his  sepa- 
rate group  of  admirers,  and  great  was  the  delight  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  21 

loud  the  laughter  in  the  pastime-ground  of  old  Cock- 
aigne. 

While  Marmaduke,  bewildered  by  this  various  bus- 
tle, stared  around  him,  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  young 
maiden,  in  evident  distress,  struggling  in  vain  to  ex- 
tricate herself  from  a  troop  of  timbrel-girls,  or  tym- 
bestercs  (as  they  were  popularly  called),  who  sur- 
rounded her  with  mocking  gestures,  striking  their 
instruments  to  drown  her  remonstrances,  and  dancing 
about  her  in  a  ring  at  every  effort  towards  escape. 
The  girl  was  modestly  attired,  as  one  of  the  humbler 
ranks,  and  her  wimple  in  much  concealed  her  coun- 
tenance ;  but  there  was,  despite  her  strange  and  un- 
dignified situation  and  evident  alarm,  a  sort  of  quiet, 
earnest  self-possession — an  effort  to  hide  her  terror, 
and  to  appeal  to  the  better  and  more  womanly  feel- 
ings of  her  persecutors.  In  the  intervals  of  silence 
from  their  clamour,  her  voice,  though  low,  clear,  well- 
tuned,  and  impressive,  forcibly  arrested  the  attention 
of  young  Nevile ;  for  at  that  day,  even  more  than  this 
(sufficiently  apparent  as  it  now  is),  there  was  a  marked 
distinction  in  the  intonation,  the  accent,  the  modula- 
tion of  voice,  between  the  better  bre'd  and  better  edu- 
cated, and  the  inferior  classes.  But  this  difference, 
so  ill  according  with  her  dress  and  position,  only 
served  to  heighten  more  the  bold  insolence  of  the 
musical  Bacchantes,  who,  indeed,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
sober,  formed  the  most  immoral  nuisance  attendant 
on  the  sports  of  the  time,  and  whose  hardy  license  and 
peculiar  sisterhood  might  tempt  the  antiquarian  to 
search  for  their  origin  amongst  the  relics  of  ancient 
Paganism.  And  now,  to  increase  the  girl's  distress, 
some  half-score  of  dissolute  apprentices  and  journey- 
men suddenly  broke  into  the  ring  of  the  Maenads,  and 


22  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

were  accosting  her  with  yet  more  alarming  insults, 
when  Marmaduke,  pushing  them  aside,  strode  to  her 
assistance.  "  How  now,  ye  lewd  varlets ! — ye  make 
me  blush  for  my  countrymen  in  the  face  of  day !  Are 
these  the  sports  of  merry  England — these  your  manly 
contests — to  strive  which  can  best  affront  a  poor 
maid? — Out  on  ye,  cullions  and  bezonians  ! — Cling  to 
me,  gentle  donzel,  and  fear  not.  Whither  shall  I  lead 
thee?" 

The  apprentices  were  not,  however,  so  easily 
daunted.  Two  of  them  approached  to  the  rescue, 
flourishing  their  bludgeons  about  their  heads  with 
formidable  gestures — "  Ho,  ho !  "  cried  one,  "  what 
right  hast  thou  to  step  between  the  hunters  and  the 
doe?  The  young  quean  is  too  much  honoured  by  a 
kiss  from  a  bold  'prentice  of  London." 

Marmaduke  stepped  back,  and  drew  the  small  dag- 
ger which  then  formed  the  only  habitual  weapon  of 
a  gentleman.*  This  movement,  discomposing  his 
mantle,  brought  the  silver  arrow  he  had  won  (which 
was  placed  in  his  girdle)  in  full  view  of  the  assailants. 
At  the  same  time  they  caught  sight  of  the  badge  on 
his  hat.  These  intimidated  their  ardour  more  than 
the  drawn  poniard. 

"  A  Nevile  !  "  said  one,  retreating.  "  And  the  jolly 
marksman  who  beat  Nick  Alwyn,"  said  the  other, 
lowering  his  bludgeon,  and  doffing  his  cap.  "  Gentle 
sir,  forgive  us,  we  knew  not  your  quality.  But  as  for 
the  girl — your  gallantry  misleads  you." 

"The  Wizard's  daughter!    ha!    ha! — the  Imp  of 

Darkness !  "  screeched  the  timbrel-girls,  tossing  up 

their  instruments,  and  catching  them  again  on  the 

points  of  their  fingers.    "  She  has  enchanted  him  with 

*  Swords  were  not  worn,  in  peace,  at  that  period. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  23 

her  glamour.  Foul  is  fair!  Foul  fair  thee,  young 
springal,  if  thou  go  to  the  nets.  Shadow  and  goblin 
to  goblin  and  shadow !  Flesh  and  blood  to  blood  and 
flesh !  " — and  dancing  round  him,  with  wanton  looks 
and  bare  arms,  and  gossamer  robes  that  brushed  him 
as  they  circled,  they  chanted — 

"  Come,  kiss  me,  my  darling, 
Warm  kisses  I  trade  for ; 
Wine,  music,  and  kisses — 

What  else  was  life  made  for !  " 

With  some  difficulty,  and  with  a  disgust  which  was 
not  altogether  without  a  superstitious  fear  of  the 
strange  words  and  the  outlandish  appearance  of  these 
loathsome  Delilahs,  Marmaduke  broke  from  the  ring 
with  his  new  charge  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  the  Nevile 
and  the  maiden  found  themselves,  unmolested  and 
unpursued,  in  a  deserted  quarter  of  the  ground ;  but 
still  the  scream  of  the  timbrel-girls,  as  they  hurried, 
wheeling  and  dancing,  into  the  distance,  was  borne 
ominously  to  the  young  man's  ear, — "  Ha,  ha !  the 
witch  and  her  lover!  Foul  is  fair! — foul  is  fair! 
Shadow  to  goblin,  goblin  to  shadow — and  the  Devil 
will  have  his  own !  " 

"  And  what  mischance,  my  poor  girl,"  asked  the 
Nevile  soothingly,  "  brought  thee  into  such  evil  com- 
pany ?  " 

"  I  know  not,  fair  sir,"  said  the  girl,  slowly  recover- 
ing herself ;  "  but  my  father  is  poor,  and  I  had  heard 
that  on  these  holiday  occasions  one  who  had  some 
slight  skill  on  the  gittern  might  win  a  few  groats  from 
the  courtesy  of  the  bystanders.  So  I  stole  out  with 
my  serving-woman,  and  had  already  got  more  than  I 
dared  hope,  when  those  wicked  timbrel-players  came 
round  me,  and  accused  me  of  taking  the  money  from 


24  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

them.  And  then  they  called  an  officer  of  the  ground, 
who  asked  me  my  name  and  holding;  so  when  I 
answered,  they  called  my  father  a  wizard,  and  the  man 
broke  my  poor  gittern — see !  " — and  she  held  it  up, 
with  innocent  sorrow  in  her  eyes,  yet  a  half-smile  on 
her  lips — "  and  they  soon  drove  poor  old  Madge  from 
my  side,  and  I  knew  no  more  till  you,  worshipful  sir, 
took  pity  on  me." 

"  But  why,"  asked  the  Nevile,  "  did  they  give  to 
your  father  so  unholy  a  name  ?  " 

"  Alas,  sir !  he  is  a  great  scholar,  who  has  spent  his 
means  in  studying  what  he  says  will  one  day  be  of 
good  to  the  people." 

"Humph!"  said  Marmaduke,  who  had  all  the 
superstitions  of  his  time,  who  looked  upon  a  scholar, 
unless  in  the  Church,  with  mingled  awe  and  abhor- 
rence, and  who,  therefore,  was  but  ill-satisfied  with 
the  girl's  artless  answer, — 

"  Humph  !  your  father — but  " — checking  what  he 
was  about,  perhaps  harshly,  to  say,  as  he  caught  the 
bright  eyes  and  arch  intelligent  face  lifted  to  his  own 
— "  but  it  is  hard  to  punish  the  child  for  the  father's 
errors." 

"  Errors,  sir ! "  repeated  the  damsel,  proudly,  and 
with  a  slight  disdain  in  her  face  and  voice.  "  But  yes, 
wisdom  is  ever,  perhaps,  the  saddest  error !  " 

This  remark  was  of  an  order  superior  in  intellect  to 
those  which  had  preceded  it :  it  contrasted  with  the 
sternness  of  experience  the  simplicity  of  the  child ; 
and  of  such  contrasts,  indeed,  was  that  character  made 
up.  For  with  a  sweet,  an  infantine  change  of  tone 
and  countenance,  she  added,  after  a  short  pause — 
"They  took  the  money  1 — the  gittern, — see,  they  left 
that,  when  they  had  made  it  useless." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  25 

"  I  cannot  mend  the  gittern,  but  I  can  refill  the  gip- 
sire,"  said  Marmaduke. 

The  girl  coloured  deeply.  "  Nay,  sir,  to  earn  is  not 
to  beg." 

Marmaduke  did  not  heed  this  answer,  for  as  they 
were  now  passing  by  the  stunted  trees,  under  which 
sat  several  revellers,  who  looked  up  at  him  from  their 
cups  and  tankards,  some  with  sneering,  some  with 
grave  looks,  he  began,  more  seriously  than  in  his 
kindly  impulse  he  had  hitherto  done,  to  consider  the 
appearance  it  must  have,  to  be  thus  seen  walking,  in 
public,  with  a  girl  of  inferior  degree,  and  perhaps 
doubtful  repute.  Even  in  our  own  day,  such  an  exhi- 
bition would  be,  to  say  the  least,  suspicious,  and  in 
that  day,  when  ranks  and  classes  were  divided  with 
iron  demarcations,  a  young  gallant,  whose  dress  be- 
spoke him  of  gentle  quality,  with  one  of  opposite  sex, 
and  belonging  to  the  humbler  orders,  in  broad  day 
too,  was  far  more  open  to  censure.  The  blood 
mounted  to  his  brow,  and  halting  abruptly,  he  said, 
in  a  dry  and  altered  voice — "  My  good  damsel,  you 
are  now,  I  think,  out  of  danger ;  it  would  ill  beseem 
you,  so  young  and  so  comely,  to  go  further  with  one 
not  old  enough  to  be  your  protector,  so,  in  God's 
name,  depart  quickly,  and  remember  me  when  you 
buy  your  new  gittern — poor  child !  "  So  saying,  he 
attempted  to  place  a  piece  of  money  in  her  hand.  She 
put  it  back,  and  the  coin  fell  on  the  ground. 

"  Nay,  this  is  foolish,"  said  he. 

"  Alas,  sir !  "  said  the  girl  gravely,  "  I  see  well  -that 
you  are  ashamed  of  your  goodness.  But  my  father 
begs  not.  And  once — but  that  matters  not." 

"  Once  what  ?  "  persisted  Marmaduke,  interested  in 
her  manner,  in  spite  of  himself. 


26  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Once,"  said  the  girl,  drawing  herself  up,  and  with 
an  expression  that  altered  the  whole  character  of  her 
face — "  the  beggar  ate  at  my  father's  gate.  He  is  a 
born  gentleman  and  a  knight's  son." 

"  And  what  reduced  him  thus?  " 

"  I  have  said,"  answered  the  girl,  simply,  yet  with 
the  same  half-scorn  on  her  lip  that  it  had  before  be- 
trayed— "  he  is  a  scholar,  and  thought  more  of  others 
than  himself." 

"  I  never  saw  any  good  come  to  a  gentleman  from 
those  accursed  books,"  said  the  Nevile ;  "  fit  only  for 
monks  and  shavelings.  But  still,  for  your  father's 
sake,  though  I  am  ashamed  of  the  poorness  of  the 
gift " 

"  No — God  be  with  you,  sir,  and  reward  you."  She 
stopped  short,  drew  her  wimple  round  her  face,  and 
was  gone.  Nevile  felt  an  uncomfortable  sensation  of 
remorse  and  disapproval  at  having  suffered  her  to 
quit  him  while  there  was  yet  any  chance  of  molesta- 
tion or  annoyance,  and  his  eye  followed  her  till  a 
group  of  trees  veiled  her  from  his  view. 

The  young  maiden  slackened  her  pace  as  she  found 
herself  alone  under  the  leafless  boughs  of  the  dreary 
pollards ; — a  desolate  spot,  made  melancholy  by  dull 
swamps,  half  overgrown  with  rank  verdure,  through 
which  forced  its  clogged  way  the  shallow  brook  that 
now  gives  its  name  (though  its  waves  are  seen  no 
more)  to  one  of  the  main  streets  in  the  most  polished 
quarters  of  the  metropolis.  Upon  a  mound  formed 
by  the  gnarled  roots  of  the  dwarfed  and  gnome-like 
oak,  she  sat  down  and  wept.  In  our  earlier  years, 
most  of  us  may  remember,  that  there  was  one  day 
which  made  an  epoch  in  life — the  day  that  separated 
Childhood  from  Youth;  for  that  day  seems  not  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  27 

come  gradually,  but  to  be  a  sudden  crisis,  an  abrupt 
revelation.  The  buds  of  the  heart  open  to  close  no 
more.  Such  a  day  was  this  in  that  girl's  fate.  But 
the  day  was  not  yet  gone !  That  morning,  when  she 
dressed  for  her  enterprise  of  filial  love,  perhaps  for 
the  first  time  Sybill  Warner  felt  that  she  was  fair — 
who  shall  say,  whether  some  innocent,  natural  vanity 
had  not  blended  with  the  deep,  devoted  earnestness, 
which  saw  no  shame  in  the  act  by  which  the  child 
could  aid  the  father?  Perhaps  she  might  have  smiled 
to  listen  to  old  Madge's  praises  of  her  winsome  face 
— old  Madge's  predictions  that  the  face  and  the  git- 
tern  would  not  lack  admirers  on  the  gay  ground. 
Perhaps  some  indistinct,  vague  forethoughts  of  the 
Future  to  which  the  sex  will  deem  itself  to  be  born, 
might  have  caused  the  cheek — no,  not  to  blush,  but 
to  take  a  rosier  hue,  and  the  pulse  to  beat  quicker, 
she  knew  not  why.  At  all  events,  to  that  ground  went 
the  young  Sibyll,  cheerful,  and  almost  happy,  in  her 
inexperience  of  actual  life,  and  sure,  at  least,  that 
youth  and  innocence  sufficed  to  protect  from  insult. 
And  now  she  sat  down  under  the  leafless  tree  to  weep ; 
and  in  those  bitter  tears,  childhood  itself  was  laved 
from  her  soul  for  ever. 

"  What  ailest  thou,  maiden  ?  "  asked  a  deep  voice ; 
and  she  felt  a  hand  laid  lightly  on  her  shoulder.  She 
looked  up  in  terror  and  confusion,  but  it  was  no  form 
or  face  to  inspire  alarm  that  met  her  eye.  It  was 
a  cavalier,  holding  by  the  rein  a  horse  richly  capari- 
soned, and  though  his  dress  was  plainer  and  less  ex- 
aggerated than  that  usually  worn  by  men  of  rank,  its 
materials  were  those  which  the  sumptuary  laws  (con- 
stantly broken,  indeed,  as  such  laws  ever  must  be) 
confined  to  nobles.  Though  his  surcoat  was  but  of 


28  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

cloth,  and  the  colour  dark  and  sober,  it  was  woven  in 
foreign  looms — an  unpatriotic  luxury,  above  the  de- 
gree of  knight — and  edged  deep  with  the  costliest 
sables.  The  hilt  of  the  dagger,  suspended  round  his 
breast,  was  but  of  ivory,  curiously  wrought,  but  the 
scabbard  was  sown  with  large  pearls.  For  the  rest, 
the  stranger  was  of  ordinary  stature,  well  knit,  and 
active  rather  than  powerful,  and  of  that  age  (about 
thirty-five)  which  may  be  called  the  second  prime  of 
man.  His  face  was  far  less  handsome  than  Marma- 
duke  Nevile's,  but  infinitely  more  expressive,  both  of 
intelligence  and  command,  the  features  straight  and 
sharp,  the  complexion  clear  and  pale,  and  under  the 
bright  grey  eyes  a  dark  shade  spoke  either  of  dissipa- 
tion or  of  thought. 

"  What  ailest  thou,  maiden  ? — weepest  thou  some 
faithless  lover?  Tush!  love  renews  itself  in  youth, 
as  flower  succeeds  flower  in  spring." 

Sibyll  made  no  reply,  she  rose  and  moved  a  few 
paces,  then  arrested  her  steps  and  looked  around  her. 
She  had  lost  all  clue  to  her  way  homeward,  and  she 
saw  with  horror,  in  the  distance,  the  hateful  timbrel- 
girls,  followed  by  the  rabble,  and  weaving  their 
strange  dances  towards  the  spot. 

"  Dost  thou  fear  me,  child  ?  there  is  no  cause,"  said 
the  stranger,  following  her.  "  Again  I  say,  '  What 
ailest  thou  ?  '  " 

This  time  his  voice  was  that  of  command,  and  the 
poor  girl  involuntarily  obeyed  it.  She  related  her 
misfortunes,  her  persecution  by  the  tymbestcres,  her 
escape — thanks  to  the  Nevile's  courtesy — her  separa- 
tion from  her  attendant,  and  her  uncertainty  as  to  the 
way  she  should  pursue. 

The  nobleman  listened  with  interest :  he  was  a  man 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  29 

sated  and  wearied  by  pleasure  and  the  world,  and 
the  evident  innocence  of  Sibyll  was  a  novelty  to  his 
experience,  while  the  contrast  between  her  language 
and  her  dress  moved  his  curiosity.  "  And,"  said  he, 
"  thy  protector  left  thee,  his  work  half  done ; — fie  on 
his  chivalry !  But  I,  donzel,  wear  the  spurs  of  knight- 
hood, and  to  succour  the  distressed  is  a  duty  my 
oath  will  not  let  me  swerve  from.  I  will  guide  thee 
home,  for  I  know  well  all  the  purlieus  of  this  evil  den 
of  London.  Thou  hast  but  to  name  the  suburb  in 
which  thy  father  dwells." 

Sibyll  involuntarily  raised  her  wimple,  lifted  her 
beautiful  eyes  to  the  stranger,  in  bewildered  gratitude 
and  surprise.  Her  childhood  had  passed  in  a  court — 
her  eye,  accustomed  to  rank,  at  once  perceived  the 
high  degree  of  the  speaker !  the  contrast  between  this 
unexpected  and  delicate  gallantry,  and  the  conde- 
scending tone  and  abrupt  desertion  of  Marmaduke, 
affected  her  again  to  tears. 

"  Ah,  worshipful  sir  !  "  she  said,  falteringly,  "  what 
can  reward  thee  for  this  unlooked-for  goodness  ?  " 

"  One  innocent  smile,  sweet  virgin ! — for  such  I'll 
be  sworn  thou  art." 

He  did  not  offer  her  his  hand,  but  hanging  the 
gold-enamelled  rein  over  his  arm,  walked  by  her  side ; 
and  a  few  words  sufficing  for  his  guidance,  led  her 
across  the  ground,  through  the  very  midst  of  the 
throng.  He  felt  none  of  the  young  shame,  the  in- 
genuous scruples  of  Marmaduke,  at  the  gaze  he  en- 
countered, thus  companioned.  But  Sibyll  noted  that 
ever  and  anon  bonnet  and  cap  were  raised  as  they 
passed  along,  and  the  respectful  murmur  of  the  vul- 
gar, who  had  so  lately  jeered  her  anguish,  taught  her 
the  immeasurable  distance  in  men's  esteem,  between 


30  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

poverty  shielded  but  by  virtue,  and  poverty  protected 
by  power. 

But  suddenly  a  gaudy  tinsel  group  broke  through 
the  crowd,  and  wheeling  round  their  path,  the  fore- 
most of  them  daringly  approached  the  nobleman,  and 
looking  full  into  his  disdainful  face,  exclaimed — 
"  Tradest  thou,  too,  for  kisses  ?  Ha !  ha ! — life  is 
short — the  witch  is  outwitched  by  thee !  But  witch- 
craft and  death  go  together,  as,  peradventure,  thou 
mayest  learn  at  the  last,  sleek  wooer."  Then  darting 
off,  and  heading  her  painted,  tawdry  throng,  the  tim- 
brel-girl sprang  into  the  crowd  and  vanished. 

This  incident  produced  no  effect  upon  the  strong 
and  cynical  intellect  of  the  stranger.  Without  allu- 
sion to  it,  he  continued  to  converse  with  his  young 
companion,  and  artfully  to  draw  out  her  own  singular 
but  energetic  and  gifted  mind.  He  grew  more  than 
interested,  he  was  both  touched  and  surprised.  His 
manner  became  yet  more  respectful,  his  voice  more 
subdued  and  soft. 

On  what  hazards  turns  our  fate !  On  that  day — a 
little  and  Sibyll's  pure,  but  sensitive  heart  had,  per- 
haps, been  given  to  the  young  Nevile.  He  had  de- 
fended and  saved  her ;  he  was  fairer  than  the  stranger, 
he  was  more  of  her  own  years,  and  nearer  to  her  in 
station ;  but  in  showing  himself  ashamed  to  be  seen 
with  her,  he  had  galled  her  heart,  and  moved  the 
bitter  tears  of  her  pride.  What  had  the  stranger 
done?  Nothing,  but  reconciled  the  wounded  delicacy 
to  itself;  and  suddenly  he  became  to  her  one  ever 
to  be  remembered — wondered  at — perhaps  more. 
They  reached  an  obscure  suburb,  and  parted  at  the 
threshold  of  a  large,  gloomy,  ruinous  house,  which 
Sibyll  indicated  as  her  father's  home. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  31 

The  girl  lingered  before  the  porch;  and  the 
stranger  gazed,  with  the  passionless  admiration  which 
some  fair  object  of  art  produces  on  one  who  has  re- 
fined his  taste,  but  who  has  survived  enthusiasm,  upon 
the  downcast  cheek  that  blushed  beneath  his  gaze — 
"  Farewell !  "  he  said ;  and  the  girl  looked  up  wist- 
fully. He  might,  without  vanity,  have  supposed  that 
look  to  imply  what  the  lip  did  not  dare  to  say — "  And 
shall  we  meet  no  more  ? " 

But  he  turned  away,  with  formal  though  courteous 
salutation ;  and  as  he  remounted  his  steed,  and  rode 
slowly  towards  the  interior  of  the  city,  he  muttered 
to  himself,  with  a  melancholy  smile  upon  his  lips — 
"  Now  might  the  grown  infant  make  to  himself  a  new 
toy ;  but  an  innocent  heart  is  a  brittle  thing,  and  one 
false  vow  can  break  it.  Pretty  maiden.  I  like  thee 
well  eno'  not  to  love  thee.  So,  as  my  young  Scotch 
minstrel  sings  and  prays, 

"  Christ  keep  these  birdis  bright  in  bowers, 
Sic  peril  lies  in  paramours !  "  * 

We  must  now  return  to  Marmaduke.  On  leaving 
Sibyll,  and  retracing  his  steps  towards  the  more 
crowded  quarter  of  the  space,  he  was  agreeably  sur- 
prised by  encountering  Nicholas  Alwyn,  escorted  in 
triumph  by  a  legion  of  roaring  apprentices  from  the 
victory  he  had  just  obtained  over  six  competitors  at 
the  quarter-staff. 

*  A  Scotch  poet,  in  Lord  Hailes's  Collection,  has  the  follow- 
ing lines  in  the  very  pretty  poem  called  "  Peril  in  Para- 
mours :  " — 

"  Wherefore  I  pray,  in  termys  short, 
Christ  keep  these  birdis  bright  in  bowers, 
Fra  false  lovers  and  their  disport, 
Sic  peril  lies  in  paramours." 


32  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

When  the  cortege  came  up  to  Marmaduke,  Nicho- 
las halted,  and  fronting  his  attendants,  said,  with  the 
same  cold  and  formal  stiffness  that  had  characterised 
him  from  the  beginning — "  I  thank  you,  lads,  for 
your  kindness.  It  is  your  own  triumph.  All  I  cared 
for  was  to  show  that  you  London  boys  are  able  to 
keep  up  your  credit  in  these  days,  when  there's  little 
luck  in  a  yard-measure,  if  the  same  hand  cannot  bend 
a  bow,  or  handle  cold  steel.  But  the  less  we  think 
of  the  strife  when  we  are  in  the  stall,  the  better  for 
our  pouches.  And  so  I  hope  we  shall  hear  no  more 
about  it,  until  I  get  a  ware  of  my  own,  when  the  more 
of  ye  that  like  to  talk  of  such  matters  the  better  ye 
will  be  welcome, — always  provided  ye  be  civil  cus- 
tomers,— who  pay  on  the  nail,  for  as  the  saw  saith, 
'  Ell  and  tell  makes  the  crypt  swell.'  For  the  rest, 
thanks  are  due  to  this  brave  gentleman,  Marmaduke 
Nevile,  who,  though  the  son  of  a  knight-banneret, 
who  never  furnished  less  to  the  battle-field  than  fifty 
men-at-arms,  has  condescended  to  take  part  and  par- 
cel in  the  sports  of  us  peaceful  London  traders ;  and 
if  ever  you  can  do  him  a  kind  turn — for  turn  and  turn 
is  fair  play — why  you  will,  I  answer  for  it.  And  so 
one  cheer  for  old  London,  and  another  for  Marma- 
duke Nevile.  Here  goes  !  Hurrah,  my  lads !  "  And 
with  this  pithy  address  Nicholas  Alwyn  took  off  his 
cap  and  gave  the  signal  for  the  shouts,  which,  being 
duly  performed,  he  bowed  stiffly  to  his  companions, 
who  departed  with  a  hearty  laugh,  and  coming  to  the 
side  of  Nevile,  the  two  walked  on  to  a  neighbouring 
booth,  where,  under  a  rude  awning,  and  over  a  flagon 
of  clary,  they  were  soon  immersed  in  the  confidential 
communications  each  had  to  give  and  receive. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  33 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    TRADER    AND    THE    GENTLE;    OR,    THE    CHANGING 

GENERATION 

"  No,  my  dear  foster-brother,"  said  the  Nevile,  "  I 
do  not  yet  comprehend  the  choice  you  have  made. 
You  were  reared  and  brought  up  with  such  careful 
book-lere,  not  only  to  read  and  to  write — the  which, 
save  the  mark !  I  hold  to  be  labour  eno' — but  chop 
Latin  and  logic  and  theology  with  St.  Aristotle  (is 
not  that  his  hard  name  ?)  into  the  bargain,  and  all  be- 
cause you  had  an  uncle  of  high  note  in  Holy  Church. 
I  cannot  say  I  would  be  a  shaveling  myself;  but 
surely  a  monk  with  the  hope  of  preferment,  is  a  nobler 
calling  to  a  lad  of  spirit  and  ambition  than  to  stand 
out  at  a  door  and  cry, '  Buy,  buy  ' — '  What  d'ye  lack  ' 
— to  spend  youth  as  a  Flat-cap,  and  drone  out  man- 
hood in  measuring  cloth,  hammering  metals,  or 
weighing  out  spices  ?  " 

"  Fair  and  softly,  Master  Marmaduke,"  said  Alwyn, 
"  you  will  understand  me  better  anon.  My  uncle,  the 
sub-prior,  died — some  say  of  austerities,  others  of 
ale — that  matters  not;  he  was  a  learned  man  and  a 
cunning.  '  Nephew  Nicholas,'  said  he  on  his  death- 
bed, '  think  twice  before  you  tie  yourself  up  to  the 
cloister;  it's  ill  leaping  now-a-days  in  a  sackcloth 
bag.  If  a  pious  man  be  moved  to  the  cowl  by  holy  de- 
votion, there  is  nothing  to  be  said  on  the  subject ;  but 
if  he  take  to  the  Church  as  a  calling,  and  wish  to 
march  ahead  like  his  fellows,  these  times  show  him  a 
prettier  path  to  distinction.  The  nobles  begin  to  get 
the  best  things  for  themselves ;  and  a  learned  monk, 
VOL.  L— 3 


34  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

if  he  is  the  son  of  a  yeoman,  cannot  hope,  without  a 
specialty  of  grace,  to  become  abbot  or  bishop.  The 
king,  whoever  he  be,  must  be  so  drained  by  his  wars, 
that  he  has  little  land  or  gold  to  bestow  on  his  favour- 
ites ;  but  his  gentry  turn  an  eye  to  the  temporalities 
of  the  Church,  and  the  Church  and  the  king  wish  to 
strengthen  themselves  by  the  gentry.  This  is  not 
all;  there  are  free  opinions  afloat.  The  house  of 
Lancaster  has  lost  ground,  by  its  persecutions  and 
burnings.  Men  dare  not  openly  resist,  but  they  treas- 
ure up  recollections  of  a  fried  grandfather,  or  a 
roasted  cousin ;  recollections  which  have  done  much 
damage  to  the  Henries,  and  will  shake  Holy  Church 
itself  one  of  these  days.  The  Lollards  lie  hid,  but  Lol- 
lardism  will  never  die.  There  is  a  new  class  rising 
amain,  where  a  little  learning  goes  a  great  way,  if 
mixed  with  spirit  and  sense.  Thou  likest  broad 
pieces,  and  a  creditable  name — go  to  London  and  be 
a  trader.  London  begins  to  decide  who  shall  wear  the 
crown,  and  the  traders  to  decide  what  king  London 
shall  befriend.  Wherefore,  cut  thy  trace  from  the 
cloister,  and  take  thy  road  to  the  shop.'  The  next 
day  my  uncle  gave  up  the  ghost. — They  had  better 
clary  than  this  at  the  convent,  I  must  own.  But 
every  stone  has  its  flaw." 

"  Yet,"  said  Marmaduke,  "  if  you  took  distaste  to 
the  cowl,  from  reasons  that  I  pretend  not  to  judge  of, 
but  which  seem  to  my  poor  head  very  bad  ones,  see-, 
ing  that  the  Church  is  as  mighty  as  ever,  and  King 
Edward  is  no  friend  to  the  Lollards,  and  that  your 
uncle  himself  was  at  least  a  sub-prior ' 

"  Had  he  been  son  to  a  baron,  he  had  been  a  car- 
dinal," interrupted  Nicholas,  "  for  his  head  was  the 
longest  that  ever  came  out  of  the  north  country.  But 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  35 

go  on ;  you  would  say  my  father  was  a  sturdy  yeo- 
man, and  I  might  have  followed  his  calling?" 

"  You  hit  the  mark,  Master  Nicholas." 

"  Hout, — man.  I  crave  pardon  of  your  rank  Mas- 
ter Nevile.  But  a  yeoman  is  born  a  yeoman,  and  he 
dies  a  yeoman — I  think  it  better  to  die  Lord  Mayor 
of  London;  and  so  I  craved  my  mother's  blessing 
and  leave,  and  a  part  of  the  old  hyde  has  been  sold 
to  pay  for  the  first  step  to  the  red  gown,  which  I  need 
not  say  must  be  that  of  the  Flat  cap.  I  have  already 
taken  my  degrees,  and  no  longer  wear  blue.  I  am 
headman  to  my  master,  and  my  master  will  be  sheriff 
of  London." 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  said  the  Nevile,  shaking  his  head ; 
"  you  were  ever  a  tall,  brave  lad,  and  would  have 
made  a  very  pretty  soldier." 

"  Thank  you,  Master  Marmaduke,  but  I  leave  cut 
and  thrust  to  the  gentles.  I  have  seen  eno'  of  the  life 
of  a  retainer.  He  goes  out  on  foot  with  his  shield 
and  his  sword,  or  his  bow  and 'his  quiver,  while  sir 
knight  sits  on  horseback,  armed  from  the  crown  to 
the  toe,  and  the  arrow  slants  off  from  rider  and  horse, 
as  a  stone  from  a  tree.  If  the  retainer  is  not  sliced 
and  carved  into  mincemeat,  he  comes  home  to  a  heap 
of  ashes,  and  a  handful  of  acres,  harried  and  rivelled 
into  a  common ;  sir  knight  thanks  him  for  his  valour, 
but  he  does  not  build  up  his  house ;  sir  knight  gets 
a  grant  from  the  king,  or  an  heiress  for  his  son,  and 
Hob  Yeoman  turns  gisarme  and  bill  into  plough- 
shares. Tut,  tut,  there's  no  liberty,  no  safety,  no  get- 
ting on,  for  a  man  who  has  no  right  to  the  gold  spurs, 
but  in  the  guild  of  his  fellows ;  and  London  is  the 
place  for  a  born  Saxon,  like  Nicholas  Alwyn." 

As  the  young  aspirant  thus  uttered  the  sentiments, 


36  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

which  though  others  might  not  so  plainly  avow  and 
shrewdly  enforce  them,  tended  towards  that  slow 
revolution,  which,  under  all  the  stormy  events  that 
the  superficial  record  we  call  HISTORY  alone  deigns 
to  enumerate,  was  working  that  great  change  in  the 
thoughts  and  habits  of  the  people — that  impulsion  of 
the  provincial  citywards — that  gradual  formation  of 
a  class  between  knight  and  vassal — which  became  first 
constitutionally  visible  and  distinct  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VII.,  Marmaduke  Nevile,  inly  half-regretting 
and  half-despising  the  reasonings  of  his  foster- 
brother,  was  playing  with  his  dagger,  and  glancing 
at  his  silver  arrow. 

"  Yet  you  could  still  have  eno'  of  the  tall  yeoman 
and  the  stout  retainer  about  you  to  try  for  this  bauble, 
and  to  break  half  a  dozen  thick  heads  with  your  quar- 
ter-staff !  " 

"  True,"  said  Nicholas ;  "  you  must  recollect  we 
are  only,  as  yet,  between  the  skin  and  the  selle — half- 
trader,  half-retainer.  The  old  leaven  will  out : — '  Eith 
to  learn  the  cat  to  the  kirn,' — as  they  say  in  the  north. 
But  that's  not  all ;  a  man,  to  get  on,  must  win  respect 
from  those  who  are  to  jostle  him  hereafter,  and  it's 
good  policy  to  show  those  roystering  youngsters  that 
Nick  Alwyn,  stiff  and  steady  though  he  be,  has  the 
old  English  metal  in  him,  if  it  comes  to  a  pinch;  it's 
a  lesson  to  yon  lords  too,  save  your  quality,  if  they 
ever  wish  to  ride  roughshod  over  our  guilds  and  com- 
panies. But  eno'  of  me — Drawer,  another  stoup  of' 
the  clary.  Now,  gentle  sir,  may  I  make  bold  to  ask 
news  of  yourself?  I  saw,  though  I  spake  not  before 
of  it,  that  my  Lord  Montagu  showed  a  cold  face  to 
his  kinsman.  I  know  something  of  these  great  men, 
though  I  be  but  a  small  one — a  dog  is  no  bad  guide 
in  the  city  he  trots  through." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  37 

"  My  dear  foster-brother,"  said  the  Nevile :  "  you 
had  ever  more  brains  than  myself,  as  is  meet  that  you 
should  have,  since  you  lay  by  the  steel  casque,  which, 
I  take  it,  is  meant  as  a  substitute  for  us  gentlemen 
and  soldiers  who  have  not  so  many  brains  to  spare; 
and  I  will  willingly  profit  by  your  counsels.  You 
must  know,"  he  said,  drawing  nearer  to  the  table, 
and  his  frank,  hardy  face  assuming  a  more  earnest  ex- 
pression, "  that  though  my  father,  Sir  Guy,  at  the 
instigation  of  his  chief,  the  Earl  of  Westmoreland,  and 
of  the  Lord  Nevile,  bore  arms,  at  the  first  for  King 
Henry—" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  for  Henry  of  Windsor !  " 
"  Henry  of  Windsor ! — so  be  it !  yet  being  con- 
nected, like  the  nobles  I  have  spoken  of,  with  the 
blood  of  Warwick  and  Salisbury,  it  was  ever  with 
doubt  and  misgiving,  and  rather  in  the  hope  of  ulti- 
mate compromise  between  both  parties  (which  the 
Duke  of  York's  moderation  rendered  probable),  than 
of  the  extermination  of  either.  But  when,  at  the 
battle  of  York,  Margaret  of  Anjou  and  her  generals 
stained  their  victory  by  cruelties  which  could  not  fail 
to  close  the  door  on  all  conciliation ;  when  the  infant 
son  of  the  duke  himself  was  murdered,  though  a  pris- 
oner, in  cold  blood;  when  my  father's  kinsman,  the 
Earl  of  Salisbury,  was  beheaded  without  trial ;  when 
the  head  of  the  brave  and  good  duke,  who  had  fallen 
in  the  field,  was,  against  all  knightly  and  kinglike 
generosity,  mockingly  exposed,  like  a  dishonoured 
robber,  on  the  gates  of  York,  my  father,  shocked  and 
revolted,  withdrew  at  once  from  the  army,  and  slacked 
not  bit  or  spur  till  he  found  himself  in  his  hall  at  Ars- 
dale.  His  death,  caused  partly  by  his  travail  and 
vexation  of  spirit,  together  with  his  timely  withdrawal 


38  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

from  the  enemy,  preserved  his  name  from  the  at- 
tainder passed  on  the  Lords  Westmoreland  and 
Nevile ;  and  my  eldest  brother,  Sir  John,  accepted  the 
king's  proffer  of  pardon,  took  the  oaths  of  allegiance 
to  Edward,  and  lives  safe,  if  obscure,  in  his  father's 
halls.  Thou  knowest,  my  friend,  that  a  younger 
brother  has  but  small  honour  at  home.  Peradventure, 
in  calmer  times,  I  might  have  bowed  my  pride  to  my 
calling,  hunted  my  brother's  dogs,  flown  his  hawks, 
rented  his  keeper's  lodge,  and  gone  to  my  grave  con- 
tented. But  to  a  young  man,  who,  from  his  child- 
hood, had  heard  the  stirring  talk  of  knights  and  cap- 
tains, who  had  seen  valour  and  fortune  make  the  way 
to  distinction,  and  whose  ears  of  late  had  been  rilled 
by  the  tales  of  wandering  minstrels  and  dissours,  with 
all  the  gay  wonders  of  Edward's  court,  such  a  life 
soon  grew  distasteful.  My  father,  on  his  death-bed 
(like  thy  uncle,  the  sub-prior),  encouraged  me  little 
to  follow  his  own  footsteps.  '  I  see,'  said  he,  '  that 
King  Henry  is  too  soft  to  rule  his  barons,  and  Mar- 
garet too  fierce  to  conciliate  the  commons — the  only 
hope  of  peace  is  in  the  settlement  of  the  house  of 
York.  Wherefore  let  not  thy  father's  errors  stand  in 
the  way  of  thy  advancement ; ' — and  therewith  he 
made  his  confessor — for  he  was  no  penman  himself, 
the  worthy  old  knight ! — indite  a  letter  to  his  great 
kinsman,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  commending  me  to 
his  protection.  He  signed  his  mark,  and  set  his  seal 
to  this  missive,  which  I  now  have  at  mine  hostelrie, 
and  died  the  same  day.  My  brother  judged  me  too 
young  then  to  quit  his  roof,  and  condemned  me  to 
bear  his  humours  till,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  I 
could  bear  no  more !  So,  having  sold  him  my  scant 
share  in  the  heritage,  and  turned,  like  thee,  bad  land 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  39 

into  good  nobles, — I  joined  a  party  of  horse  in  their 
journey  to  London,  and  arrived  yesterday  at  Master 
Sackbut's  hostelrie,  in  Eastchepe.  I  went  this  morn- 
ing to  my  Lord  of  Warwick,  but  he  was  gone  to  the 
king's,  and  hearing  of  the  merry-makings  here,  I  came 
hither  for  kill-time.  A  chance  word  of  my  Lord  Mon- 
tagu, whom  St.  Dunstan  confound,  made  me  conceit 
that  a  feat  of  skill  with  the  cloth-yard  might  not  ill 
preface  my  letter  to  the  great  earl.  But,  pardie !  it 
seems  I  reckoned  without  my  host,  and  in  seeking  to 
make  my  fortunes  too  rashly,  I  have  helped  to  mar 
them."  Wherewith  he  related  the  particulars  of  his 
interview  with  Montagu. 

Nicholas  Alwyn  listened  to  him  with  friendly  and 
thoughtful  interest,  and,  when  he  had  done,  spoke 
thus : — 

"  The  Earl  of  Warwick  is  a  generous  man,  and 
though  hot,  bears  little  malice,  except  against  those 
whom  he  deems  misthink  or  insult  him ;  he  is  proud 
of  being  looked  up  to  as  a  protector,  especially  by 
those  of  his  own  kith  and  name.  Your  father's  letter 
will  touch  the  right  string,  and  you  cannot  do  better 
than  deliver  it  with  a  plain  story.  A  young  partisan 
like  thee  is  not  to  be  despised.  Thou  must  trust  to 
Lord  Warwick  to  set  matters  right  with  his  brother : 
and  now,  before  I  say  further  let  me  ask  thee,  plainly, 
and  without  offence,  Dost  thou  so  love  the  house  of 
York  that  no  chance  could  ever  make  thee  turn  sword 
against  it  ?  Answer  as  I  ask — under  thy  breath ;  those 
drawers  are  parlous  spies !  " 

And  here,  in  justice  to  Marmaduke  Nevile  and  to 
his  betters,  it  is  necessary  to  preface  his  reply  by 
some  brief  remarks,  to  which  we  must  crave  the  ear- 
nest attention  of  the  reader.  What  we  call  PATRIOT- 


40  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

ISM,  in  the  high  and  catholic  acceptation  of  the  word, 
was  little  if  at  all  understood  in  days  when  passion, 
pride,  and  interest  were  motives  little  softened  by 
reflection  and  education,  and  softened  still  less  by  the 
fusion  of  classes  that  characterised  the  small  states  of 
old,  and  marks  the  civilisation  of  a  modern  age. 
Though  the  right  by  descent  of  the  house  of  York, 
if  genealogy  alone  were  consulted,  was  indisputably 
prior  to  that  of  Lancaster,  yet  the  long  exercise  of 
power  in  the  latter  house,  the  genius  of  the  Fourth 
Henry,  and  the  victories  of  the  Fifth,  would,  no  doubt, 
have  completely  superseded  the  obsolete  claims  of  the 
Yorkists,  had  Henry  VI.  possessed  any  of  the  quali- 
ties necessary  for  the  time.  As  it  was,  men  had  got 
puzzled  by  genealogies  and  cavils;  the  sanctity  at- 
tached to  the  king's  name  was  weakened  by  his  doubt- 
ful right  to  his  throne,  and  the  Wars  of  the  rival  Roses 
were  at  last  (with  two  exceptions,  presently  to  be 
noted)  the  mere  contests  of  exasperated  factions,  in 
which  public  considerations  were  scarcely  even  made 
the  blind  to  individual  interest,  prejudice,  or  passion. 
Thus  instances  of  desertion,  from  the  one  to  tha 
other  party,  even  by  the  highest  nobles,  and  on  the 
very  eve  of  battle,  had  grown  so  common,  that  little 
if  any  disgrace  was  attached  to  them  :  and  any  knight 
or  captain  held  an  affront  to  himself  an  amply  suffi- 
cient cause  for  the  transfer  of  his  allegiance.  It  would 
be  obviously  absurd  to  expect  in  any  of  the  actors  of 
that  age  the  more  elevated  doctrines  of  party  faith  and 
public  honour,  which  clearer  notions  of  national 
morality,  and  the  salutary  exercise  of  a  large  general 
opinion,  free  from  the  passions  of  single  individuals, 
have  brought  into  practice  in  our  more  enlightened 
days.  The  individual  feelings  of  the  individual  MAN, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  41 

strong  in  himself,  became  his  guide,  and  he  was  free 
in  much  from  th,e  regular  and  thoughtful  virtues,  as 
well  as  from  the  mean  and  plausible  vices,  of  those 
who  act  only  in  bodies  and  corporations.  The  two 
exceptions  to  this  idiosyncrasy  of  motive  and  conduct, 
were,  first,  in  the  general  disposition  of  the  rising 
middle  class,  especially  in  London,  to  connect  great 
political  interests  with  the  more  popular  house  of 
York.  The  commons  in  parliament  had  acted  in  op- 
position to  Henry  the  Sixth,  as  the  laws  they  wrung 
from  him  tended  to  show,  and  it  was  a  popular  and 
trading  party  that  came,  as  it  were,  into  power  under 
King  Edward.  It  is  true  that  Edward  was  sufficiently 
arbitrary  in  himself,  but  a  popular  party  will  stretch 
as  much  as  its  antagonists  in  favour  of  despotism — 
exercised  on  its  enemies.  And  Edward  did  his  best  to 
consult  the  interests  of  commerce,  though  the  preju- 
dices of  the  merchants  interpreted  those  interests  in 
a  way  opposite  to  that  in  which  political  economy  now 
understands  them.  The  second  exception  to  the  mere 
hostilities  of  individual  chiefs  and  feudal  factions  has, 
not  less  than  the  former,  been  too  much  overlooked 
by  historians.  But  this  was  a  still  more  powerful  ele- 
ment in  the  success  of  the  house  of  York.  The  hostil- 
ity against  the  Roman  church,  and  the  tenets  of  the 
Lollards,  were  shared  by  an  immense  part  of  the  popu- 
lation. In  the  previous  century  an  ancient  writer 
computes  that  one-half  the  population  were  Lollards ; 
and  though  the  sect  were  diminished  and  silenced  by 
fear,  they  still  ceased  not  to  exist,  and  their  doctrines 
not  only  shook  the  Church  under  Henry  VIII.,  but 
destroyed  the  throne  by  the  strong  arm  of  their  chil- 
dren, the  Puritans,  under  Charles  I.  It  was  impos- 
sible that  these  men  should  not  have  felt  the  deepest 


42  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

resentment  at  the  fierce  and  steadfast  persecution  they 
endured  under  the  house  of  Lancaster;  and  without 
pausing  to  consider  how  far  they  would  benefit  under 
the  dynasty  of  York,  they  had  all  those  motives  of 
revenge  which  are  mistaken  so  often  for  the  councils 
of  policy,  to  rally  round  any  standard  raised  against 
their  oppressors.  These  two  great  exceptions  to 
merely  selfish  policy,  which  it  remains  for  the  historian 
clearly  and  at  length  to  enforce,  these  and  these  alone 
will  always,  to  a  sagacious  observer,  elevate  the  Wars 
of  the  Roses  above  those  bloody  contests  for  badges 
which  we  are,  at  first  sight,  tempted  to  regard  them. 
But  these  deeper  motives  animated  very  little  the 
nobles  and  the  knightly  gentry,*  and  with  them  the 
governing  principles  were,  as  we  have  just  said,  inter- 
est, ambition,  and  the  zeal  for  the  honour  and  advance- 
ment of  houses  and  chiefs. 

"  Truly,"  said  Marmaduke,  after  a  short  and  rather 
embarrassed  pause,  "  I  am  little  beholden  as  yet  to 
the  house  of  York.  There,  where  I  see  a  noble  bene- 
factor, or  a  brave  and  wise  leader,  shall  I  think  my 
sword  and  heart  may  best  proffer  allegiance." 

"  Wisely  said,"  returned  Alwyn,  with  a  slight  but 
half-sarcastic  smile ;  "  I  asked  thee  the  question  be- 
cause— (draw  closer)  there  are  wise  men  in  our  city 
who  think  the  ties  between  Warwick  and  the  king  less 
strong  than  a  ship's  cable.  And  if  thou  attachest  thy- 

*  Amongst  many  instances  of  the  self-seeking  of  the  time, 
not  the  least  striking  is  the  subservience  of  John  Mowbray, 
the  great  Duke  of  Norfolk,  to  his  old  political  enemy,  the  Earl 
of  Oxford,  the  moment  the  last  comes  into  power,  during  the 
brief  restoration  of  Henry  VI.  John  Paston,  whose  family 
had  been  sufficiently  harassed  by  this  great  duke,  says,  with 
some  glee,  "  The  Duke  and  Duchess  (of  Norfolk)  sue  to  him 
(Lord  Oxford)  as  humbly  as  ever  I  did  to  them."  Paston 
Letters,  eccii. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  43 

self  to  Warwick,  he  will  be  better  pleased,  it  may 
be,  with  talk  of  devotion  to  himself  than  professions  of 
exclusive  loyalty  to  King  Edward.  He  who  has  little 
silver  in  his  pouch  must  have  the  more  silk  on  his 
tongue.  A  word  to  a  Westmoreland  or  a  Yorkshire- 
man  is  as  good  as  a  sermon  to  men  not  born  so  far 
north.  One  word  more,  and  I  have  done.  Thou  art 
kind,  and  affable,  and  gentle,  my  dear  foster-brother, 
but  it  will  not  do  for  thee  to  be  seen  again  with  the 
goldsmith's  headman.  If  thou  wantest  me,  send  for 
me  at  nightfall ;  I  shall  be  found  at  Master  Heyford's, 
in  the  Chepe.  And  if,"  added  Nicholas  with  a  prudent 
reminiscence,  "  thou  succeedest  at  court,  and  canst 
recommend  my  master — there  is  no  better  goldsmith 
— it  may  serve  me  when  I  set  up  for  myself,  which  I 
look  to  do  shortly." 

"  But,  to  send  for  thee,  my  own  foster-brother,  at 
nightfall,  as  if  I  were  ashamed ! " 

"  Hout,  Master  Marmaduke,  if  thou  were  not 
ashamed  of  me,  I  should  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  with 
a  gay  springal  like  thee.  Why,  they  would  say  in  the 
Chepe  that  Nick  Alwyn  was  going  to  ruin.  No,  no. 
Birds  of  a  feather  must  keep  shy  of  those  that  moult 
other  colours ;  and  so,  my  dear  young  master,  this 
is  my  last  shake  of  the  hand.  But  hold.  Dost  thou 
know  thy  way  back  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes — never  fear !  "  answered  Marmaduke  ; 
"  though  I  see  not  why  so  far,  at  least,  we  may  not 
be  companions." 

"  No,  better  as  it  is ;  after  this  day's  work  they  will 
gossip  about  both  of  us,  and  we  shall  meet  many  who 
know  my  long  visage  on  the  way  back.  God  keep 
thee ;  avise  me  how  thou  prosperest." 

So  saying,  Nicholas  Alwyn  walked  off,  too  delicate 


44  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

to  propose  to  pay  his  share  of  the  reckoning  with  a 
superior.  But  when  he  had  gone  a  few  paces  he 
turned  back,  and  accosting  the  Nevile,  as  the  latter 
was  rebuckling  his  mantle,  said — 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  Master  Nevile,  that  these 

gold  nobles,  which  it  has  been  my  luck  to  bear  off, 

:  would  be  more  useful  in  thy  gipsire  than  mine.     I 

have  sure  gains  and  small  expenses — but  a  gentleman 

gains  nothing,  and  his  hand  must  be  ever  in  his  pouch 

"  Foster-brother !  "  said  Marmaduke,  haughtily,  "  a 
gentleman  never  borrows — except  of  the  Jews,  and 
with  due  interest.  Moreover,  I  too  have  my  calling; 
and  as  thy  stall  to  thee,  so  to  me  my  good  sword. 
Saints  keep  thee !  Be  sure  I  will  serve  thee  when 
I  can." 

"  The  devil's  in  these  young  strips  of  the  herald's 
tree,"  muttered  Alwyn,  as  he  strode  off;  "as  if  it 
were  dishonest  to  borrow  a  broad  piece  without  cut- 
ting a  throat  for  it !  Howbeit,  money  is  a  prolific 
mother:  and  here  is  eno'  to  buy  me  a  gold  chain 
against  I  am  alderman  of  London.  Hout,  thus  goes 
the  world — the  knight's  baubles  become  the  alder- 
man's badges — so  much  the  better." 


CHAPTER   IV 

ILL  FARES  THE  COUNTRY  MOUSE  IN  THE  TRAPS  OF  TOWN 

We  trust  we  shall  not  be  deemed  discourteous, 
either, on  the  one  hand,  to  those  who  value  themselves 
on  their  powers  of  reflection,  or,  on  the  other,  to  those 
who  lay  claim  to  what,  in  modern  phrenological  jar- 
gon, is  called  the  Organ  of  Locality,  when  we  venture 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  45 

to  surmise  that  the  two  are  rarely  found  in  combina- 
tion; nay,  that  it  seems  to  us  a  very  evident  truism, 
that  in  proportion  to  the  general  activity  of  the  intel- 
lect upon  subjects  of  pith  and  weight,  the  mind  will  be 
indifferent  to  those  minute  external  objects  by  which 
a  less  contemplative  understanding  will  note,  and 
map  out,  and  impress  upon  the  memory,  the  chart  of 
the  road  its  owner  has  once  taken.  Master  Marma- 
duke  Nevile,  a  hardy  and  acute  forester  from  child- 
hood, possessed  to  perfection  the  useful  faculty  of 
looking  well  and  closely  before  him  as  he  walked  the 
earth,  and  ordinarily,  therefore,  the  path  he  had  once 
taken,  however  intricate  and  obscure,  he  was  tolerably 
sure  to  retrace  with  accuracy,  even  at  no  inconsidera- 
ble distance  of  time — the  outward  senses  of  men  are 
usually  thus  alert  and  attentive  in  the  savage  or  the 
semi-civilised  state.  He  had  not,  therefore,  over- 
valued his  general  acuteness  in  the  note  and  memory 
of  localities,  when  he  boasted  of  his  power  to  refind  his 
way  to  his  hostelrie  without  the  guidance  of  Alwyn. 
But  it  so  happened  that  the  events  of  this  day,  so  mem- 
orable to  him,  withdrew  his  attention  from  external 
objects,  to  concentrate  it  within.  And  in  marvelling 
and  musing  over  the  new  course  upon  which  his  des- 
tiny had  entered,  he  forgot  to  take  heed  of  that  which 
his  feet  should  pursue;  so  that,  after  wandering  uncon- 
sciously onward  for  some  time,  he  suddenly  halted  in 
perplexity  and  amaze  to  find  himself  entangled  in  a 
labyrinth  of  scattered  suburbs,  presenting  features 
wholly  different  from  the  road  that  had  conducted  him 
to  the  archery-ground  in  the  forenoon.  The  darkness 
of  the  night  had,  set  in,  but  it  was  relieved  by  a  some- 
what faint  and  mist-clad  moon,  and  some  few  and  scat- 
tered stars,  over  which  rolled,  fleetly,  thick  clouds,  por- 


46  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

tending  rain.  No  lamps  at  that  time  cheered  the  steps 
of  the  belated  wanderer;  the  houses  were  shut  up, 
and  their  inmates,  for  the  most  part,  already  retired 
to  rest,  and  the  suburbs  did  not  rejoice,  as  the  city,  in 
the  round  of  the  watchman  with  his  drowsy  call  to  the 
inhabitants,  "Hang  out  your  lights!"  The  passen- 
gers, who  at  first,  in  various  small  groups  and  parties, 
had  enlivened  the  stranger's  way,  seemed  to  him,  un- 
conscious as  he  was  of  the  lapse  of  time,  to  have  sud- 
denly vanished  from  the  thoroughfares ;  and  he  found 
himself  alone  in  places  thoroughly  unknown  to  him, 
waking  to  the  displeasing  recollection  that  the  ap- 
proaches to  the  city  were  said  to  be  beset  by  brawlers 
and  ruffians  of  desperate  character,  whom  the  cessa- 
tion of  the  civil  wars  had  flung  loose  upon  the  skirts 
of  society,  to  maintain  themselves  by  deeds  of  rapine 
and  plunder.  As  might  naturally  be  expected,  most 
of  these  had  belonged  to  the  defeated  party,  who  had 
no  claim  to  the  good  offices  or  charity  of  those  in 
power.  And  although  some  of  the  Neviles  had  sided 
with  the  Lancastrians,  yet  the  badge  worn  by  Marma- 
duke  was  considered  a  pledge  of  devotion  to  the  reign- 
ing house,  and  added  a  new  danger  to  those  which  be- 
set his  path.  Conscious  of  this — for  he  now  called  to 
mind  the  admonitions  of  his  host  in  parting  from  the 
hostelrie — he  deemed  it  but  discreet  to  draw  the  hood 
of  his  mantle  over  the  silver  ornament;  and  while  thus 
occupied,  he  heard  not  a  step  emerging  from  a  lane 
at  his  rear,  when  suddenly  a  heavy  hand  was  placed  on 
his  shoulder:  he  started,  turned,  and  before  him  stood 
a  man,  whose  aspect  and  dress  betokened  little  to 
lessen  the  alarm  of  the  uncourteous  salutation.  Mar- 
maduke's  dagger  was  bare  on  the  instant. 

"And  what  woulclst  thou  with  me?"  he  asked. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  47 

"Thy  purse  and  thy  dagger!"  answered  the 
stranger. 

"  Come  and  take  them,"  said  the  Nevile,  uncon- 
scious that  he  uttered  a  reply  famous  in  classic  history, 
as  he  sprang  backward  a  step  or  so,  and  threw  himself 
into  an  attitude  of  defence.  The  stranger  slowly 
raised  a  rude  kind  of  mace,  or  rather  club,  with  a  ball 
of  iron  at  the  end,  garnished  with  long  spikes,  as  he 
replied,  "  Art  thou  mad  eno'  to  fight  for  such  trifles?  " 

"  Art  thou  in  the  habit  of  meeting  one  Englishman 
who  yields  his  goods,  without  a  blow,  to  another?" 
retorted  Marmaduke.  "  Go  to — thy  club  does  not 
daunt  me."  The  stranger  warily  drew  back  a  step, 
and  applied  a  whistle  to  his  mouth.  The  Nevie 
sprang  at  him,  but  the  stranger  warded  off  the  thrust 
of  the  poniard  with  a  light  flourish  of  his  heavy 
weapon;  and  had  not  the  youth  drawn  back  on  the  in- 
stant, it  had  been  good  night  and  a  long  day  to  Mar- 
maduke Nevile.  Even  as  it  was,  his  heart  beat  quick, 
as  the  whirl  of  the  huge  weapon  sent  the  air  like  a 
strong  wind  against  his  face.  Ere  he  had  time  to  re^ 
new  his  attack,  he  was  suddenly  seized  from  behind, 
and  found  himself  struggling  in  the  arms  of  two  men. 
From  these  he  broke,  and  his  dagger  glanced  harm- 
less against  the  tough  jerkin  of  his  first  assailant.  The 
next  moment  his  right  arm  fell  to  his  side,  useless  and 
deeply  gashed.  A  heavy  blow  on  the  head, — the 
moon,  the  stars  reeled  in  his  eyes — and  then  dark- 
ness;— he  knew  no  more.  His  assailants  very  delib- 
erately proceeded  to  rifle  the  inanimate  body,  when 
one  of  them,  perceiving  the  silver  badge,  exclaimed, 
with  an  oath,  "One  of  the  rampant  Neviles!  This 
cock  at  least  shall  crow  no  more."  And  laying  the 
young  man's  head  across  his  lap,  while  he  stretched 


48  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

back  the  throat  with  one  hand,  with  the  other  he  drew 
forth  a  long  sharp  knife,  like  those  used  by  hunts- 
men in  despatching  the  hart.  Suddenly,  and  in  the 
very  moment  when  the  blade  was  about  to  inflict  the 
fatal  gash,  his  hand  was  forcibly  arrested,  and  a  man, 
who  had  silently  and  unnoticed  joined  the  ruffians, 
said  in  a  stern  whisper,  "  Rise  and  depart  from  thy 
brotherhood  for  ever.  We  admit  no  murderer." 

The  ruffian  looked  up  in  bewilderment.  "  Robin — 
captain — thou  here !  "  he  said  falteringly. 

"  I  must  needs  be  everywhere,  I  see,  if  I  would  keep 
such  fellows  as  thou  and  these  from  the  gallows. 
What  is  this? — a  silver  arrow — the  young  archer — 
Urn." 

"A  Nevile!  "  growled  the  would-be  murderer. 

"  And  for  that  very  reason  his  life  should  be  safe. 
Knowest  thou  not  that  Richard  of  Warwick,  the  great 
Nevile,  ever  spares  the  commons.  Begone!  I  say." 
The  captain's  low  voice  grew  terrible  as  he  uttered  the 
last  words.  The  savage  rose,  and  without  a  word 
stalked  away. 

"  Look  you,  my  masters,"  said  Robin,  turning  to 
the  rest,  "  soldiers  must  plunder  a  hostile  country. 
While  York  is  on  the  throne,  England  is  a  hostile 
country  to  us  Lancastrians.  Rob,  then,  rifle,  if  ye 
will.  But  he  who  takes  life  shall  lose  it.  Ye  know 
me!"  The  robbers  looked  down,  silent  and  abashed. 
Robin  bent  a  moment  over  the  youth.  "  He  will  live," 
he  muttered.  "So!  he  already  begins  to  awaken. 
One  of  these  houses  will  give  him  shelter.  Off,  fel- 
lows, and  take  care  of  your  necks!  " 

When  Marmaduke,  a  few  minutes  after  this  collo- 
quy, began  to  revive,  it  was  with  a  sensation  of  dizzi- 
ness, pain,  and  extreme  cold.  He  strove  to  lift  him- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  49 

self  from  the  ground,  and  at  length  succeeded.  He 
was  alone:  the  place  where  he  had  lain  was  damp  and 
red  with  stiffening  blood.  He  tottered  on  for  several 
paces,  and  perceived  from  a  lattice,  at  a  little  distance, 
a  light  still  burning.  Now  reeling — now  falling,  he 
still  dragged  on  his  limbs  as  the  instinct  attracted  him 
to  that  sign  of  refuge.  He  gained  the  doorway  of  a 
detached  and  gloomy  house,  and  sank  on  the  stone 
before  it  to  cry  aloud.  But  his  voice  soon  sank  into 
deep  groans,  and  once  more,  as  his  efforts  increased 
the  rapid  gush  of  the  blood,  became  insensible.  The 
man  styled  Robin,  who  had  so  opportunely  saved  his 
life,  now  approached  from  the  shadow  of  a  wall,  be- 
neath which  he  had  watched  Marmaduke's  move- 
ments. He  neared  the  door  of  the  house,  and  cried, 
in  a  sharp,  clear  voice  — "  Open,  for  the  love  of 
Christ!" 

A  head  was  now  thrust  from  the  lattice — the  light 
vanished  —  a  minute  more,  the  door  opened;  and 
Robin,  as  if  satisfied,  drew  hastily  back,  and  vanished — 
saying  to  himself,  as  he  strode  along,  "  A  young  man's 
life  must  needs  be  dear  to  him;  yet,  had  the  lad  been 
a  lord,  methinks  I  should  have  cared  little  to  have 
saved  for  the  people  one  tyrant  more." 

After  a  long  interval,  Marmaduke  again  recovered, 
and  his  eyes  turned  with  pain  from  the  glare  of  a  light 
held  to  his  face. 

"He  wakes,  father! — he  will  live!"  cried  a  sweet 
voice. 

"Ay,  he  will  live,  child!"  answered  a  deeper  tone; 
and  the  young  man  muttered  to  himself,  half  audibly, 
as  in  a  dream,  "Holy  Mother  be  blessed!  it  is  sweet 
to  live." 

The  room  in  which  the  sufferer  lay  rather  exhibited 
VOL.  I.— 4 


50  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  remains  of  better  fortunes  than  testified  to  the 
solid  means  of  the  present  possessor.  The  ceiling  was 
high  and  groined,  and  some  tints  of  faded  but  once 
gaudy  painting  blazoned  its  compartments  and  hang- 
ing pendants.  The  walls  had  been  rudely  painted  (for 
arras*  then  was  rare,  even  among  the  wealthiest),  but 
the  colours  were  half  obliterated  by  time  and  damp. 
The  bedstead  on  which  the  wounded  man  reclined  was 
curiously  carved,  with  a  figure  of  the  Virgin  at  the 
head,  and  adorned  with  draperies,  in  which  were 
wrought  huge  figures  from  scriptural  subjects,  but  in 
the  dress  of  the  date  of  Richard  II. — Solomon  in  point- 
ed upturned  shoes,  and  Goliath,  in  the  armour  of  a 
crusader,  frowning  grimly  upon  the  sufferer.  By  the 
bedside  stood  a  personage,  who,  in  reality,  was  but  lit- 
tle past  the  middle  age,  but  whose  pale  visage,  inter- 
sected with  deep  furrows,  whose  long  beard  and  hair, 
partially  grey,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  advanced 
age:  nevertheless  there  was  something  peculiarly  strik- 
ing in  the  aspect  of  the  man.  His  forehead  was  singu- 
larly high  and  massive,  but  the  back  of  the  head  was 
disproportionately  small,  as  if  the  intellect  too  much 
preponderated  over  all  the  animal  qualities  for  strength 

*  Mr.  Hallam  (History  of  the  Middle  Ages,  chap.  ix.  part  2) 
implies  a  doubt  whether  great  houses  were  furnished  with 
hangings  so  soon  as  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  But  there  is 
abundant  evidence  to  satisfy  our  learned  historian  upon  that 
head.  The  Narrative  of  the  "  Lord  of  Grauthuse,"  edited  by 
Sir  F.  Madden,  specifies  the  hangings  of  cloth  of  gold  in  the 
apartments  in  which  that  lord  was  received  by  Edward  IV. ; 
also  the  hangings  of  white  silk  and  linen  in  the  chamber  appro- 
priated to  himself  at  Windsor.  But  long  before  this  period 
(to  say  nothing  of  the  Bayeux  Tapestry) — viz.,  in  the  reign 
of  Edward  III.  (in  1344),  a  writ  was  issued  to  inquire  into 
the  mystery  of  working  tapestry ;  and  in  1398,  Mr.  Britton  ob- 
serves that  the  celebrated  arras  hangings  at  Warwick  Castle 
are  mentioned.  (See  Britton's  Dictionary  of  Architecture  and 
Archaeology — art.  Tapestry.) 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  51 

in  character  and  success  in  life.  The  eyes  were  soft, 
dark,  and  brilliant,  but  dreamlike  and  vague;  the  feat- 
ures in  youth  must  have  been  regular  and  beautiful, 
but  their  contour  was  now  sharpened  by  the  hollow- 
ness  of  the  cheeks  and  temples.  The  form,  in  the  up- 
per part,  was  nobly  shaped,  sufficiently  muscular,  it 
not  powerful,  and  with  the  long  throat  and  falling 
shoulders,  which  always  gives  something  of  grace  and 
dignity  to  the  carriage;  but  it  was  prematurely  bent, 
and  the  lower  limbs  were  thin  and  weak,  as  is  common 
with  men  who  have  sparely  used  them;  they  seemed 
disproportioned  to  the  broad  chest,  and  still  more  to 
that  magnificent  and  spacious  brow.  The  dress  of  this 
personage  corresponded  with  the  aspect  of  his  abode. 
The  materials  were  those  worn  by  the  gentry,  but  they 
were  old,  threadbare,  and  discoloured  with  innumera- 
ble spots  and  stains.  His  hands  were  small  and  deli- 
cate, with  large  blue  veins,  that  spoke  of  relaxed  fibres; 
but  their  natural  whiteness  was  smudged  with  smoke- 
stains,  and  his  beard — a  masculine  ornament  utterly 
out  of  fashion  among  the  younger  race  in  King  Ed- 
ward's reign,  but  when  worn  by  the  elder  gentry,  care- 
fully trimmed  and  perfumed — was  dishevelled  into  all 
the  spiral  and  tangled  curls,  displayed  in  the  sculp- 
tured head  of  some  old  Grecian  sage  or  poet. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  bed  knelt  a  young  girl  of 
about  sixteen,  with  a  face  exquisitely  lovely  in  its  del- 
icacy and  expression.  She  seemed  about  the  middle 
stature,  and  her  arms  and  neck,  as  displayed  by  the 
close-fitting  vest,  had  already  the  smooth  and  rounded 
contour  of  dawning  womanhood,  while  the  face  had 
still  the  softness,  innocence,  and  inexpressible  bloom 
of  the  child.  There  was  a  strong  likeness  between  her 
and  her  father  (for  such  the  relationship),  despite  the 


52  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

difference  of  sex  and  years — the  same  beautiful  form 
of  lip  and  brow — the  same  rare  colour  of  the  eyes, 
dark-blue,  with  black  fringing  lashes — and  perhaps  the 
common  expression,  at  that  moment,  of  gentle  pity 
and  benevolent  anxiety  contributed  to  render  the  re- 
semblance stronger. 

"  Father,  he  sinks  again!  "  said  the  girl. 

"  Sibyll,"  answered  the  man,  putting  his  finger  upon 
a  line  in  a  manuscript  book  that  he  held,  "  the  author- 
ity saith,  that  a  patient  so  contused  should  lose  blood, 
and  then  the  arm  must  be  tightly  bandaged.  Verily 
we  lack  the  wherewithal." 

"  Not  so,  father !  "  said  the  girl,  and  blushing,  she 
turned  aside,  and  took  off  the  partelet  of  lawn,  upon 
which  holiday  finery  her  young  eyes  perhaps  that 
morning  had  turned  with  pleasure,  and  white  as  snow 
was  the  neck  which  was  thus  displayed — "  this  will  suf- 
fice to  bind  his  arm." 

"  But  the  book,"  said  the  father,  in  great  perplexity 
— "  the  book  telleth  us  not  how  the  lancet  should  be 
applied.  It  is  easy  to  say,  '  Do  this  and  do  that: '  but 
to  do  it  once,  it  should  have  been  done  before.  This 
is  not  among  my  experiments." 

Luckily,  perhaps,  for  Marmaduke,  at  this  moment 
there  entered  an  old  woman,  the  solitary  servant  of  the 
house,  whose  life,  in  those  warlike  times,  had  made  her 
pretty  well  acquainted  with  the  simpler  modes  of  deal- 
ing with  a  wounded  arm  and  a  broken  head.  She 
treated  with  great  disdain  the  learned  authority  re- 
ferred to  by  her  master;  she  bound  the  arm,  plastered 
the  head,  and  taking  upon  herself  the  responsibility 
to  promise  a  rapid  cure,  insisted  upon  the  retirement 
of  father  and  child,  and  took  her  solitary  watch  beside 
the  bed. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  53 

"  If  it  had  been  any  other  mechanism  than  that  of 
the  vile  human  body!  "  muttered  the  philosopher,  as  if 
apologising  to  himself; — and  with  that  he  recovered 
his  self-complacency  and  looked  round  him  proudly. 


CHAPTER  V 

WEAL  TO  THE  IDLER — WOE  TO  THE  WORKMAN 

As  Providence  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb, 
so  it  possibly  might  conform  the  heads  of  that  day  to 
a  thickness  suitable  for  the  blows  and  knocks  to  which 
they  were  variously  subjected;  yet  it  was  not  without 
considerable  effort,  and  much  struggling,  that  Marma- 
duke's  senses  recovered  the  shock  received,  less  by  his 
flesh-wound  and  the  loss  of  blood,  than  a  blow  on  the 
seat  of  reason,  that  might  have  despatched  a  passable 
ox  of  these  degenerate  days.  Nature,  to  say  nothing 
of  Madge's  leechcraft,  ultimately  triumphed,  and  Mar- 
maduke  woke  one  morning  in  full  possession  of  such 
understanding  as  Nature  had  endowed  him  with.  He 
was  then  alone,  and  it  was  with  much  simple  surprise 
that  he  turned  his  large  hazel  eyes  from  corner  to  cor- 
ner of  the  unfamiliar  room.  He  began  to  retrace  and 
weave  together  sundry  disordered  and  vague  reminis- 
cences: he  commenced  with  the  commencement,  and 
clearly  satisfied  himself  that  he  had  been  grievously 
wounded  and  sorely  bruised;  he  then  recalled  the  soli- 
tary light  at  the  high  lattice,  and  his  memory  found 
itself  at  the  porch  of  the  large,  lonely,  ruinous  old 
house;  then  all  became  a  bewildered  and  feverish 
dream.  He  caught  at  the  vision  of  an  old  man  with 
a  long  beard,  whom  he  associated,  displeasingly,  with 
recollections  of  pain;  he  glanced  off  to  a  fair  young 


54  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

face,  with  eyes  that  looked  tender  pity  whenever  he 
writhed  or  groaned  under  the  tortures  that,  no  doubt, 
that  old  accursed  carle  had  inflicted  upon  him.  But 
even  this  face  did  not  dwell  with  pleasure  in  his  mem- 
ory— it  woke  up  confused  and  labouring  associations 
of  something  weird  and  witchlike — of  sorceresses  and 
tymbesteres — of  wild  warnings  screeched  in  his  ear — 
of  incantations  and  devilries,  and  doom.  Impatient 
of  these  musings,  he  sought  to  leap  from  his  bed,  and 
was  amazed  that  the  leap  subsided  into  a  tottering 
crawl.  He  found  an  ewer  and  basin,  and  his  ablutions 
refreshed  and  invigorated  him.  He  searched  for  his 
raiment,  and  discovered  it  all  except  the  mantle,  dag- 
ger, hat,  and  girdle;  and,  while  looking  for  these,  his 
eye  fell  on  an  old  tarnished  steel  mirror.  He  started 
as  if  he  had  seen  his  ghost;  was  it  possible  that  his 
hardy  face  could  have  waned  into  that  pale  and  almost 
femininely  delicate  visage?  With  the  pride  (call  it 
not  coxcombry)  that  then  made  the  care  of  person  the 
distinction  of  gentle  birth,  he  strove  to  reduce  into 
order  the  tangled  locks  of  the  long  hair,  of  which  a 
considerable  portion  above  a  part  that  seemed  pecu- 
liarly sensitive  to  the  touch  had  been  mercilessly 
clipped:  and  as  he  had  just  completed  this  task,  with 
little  satisfaction  and  much  inward  chafing  at  the  lack 
of  all  befitting  essences  and  perfumes,  the  door  gently 
opened,  and  the  fair  face  he  had  dreamed  of  appeared 
at  the  aperture. 

The  girl  uttered  a  cry  of  astonishment  and  alarm 
at  seeing  the  patient  thus  arrayed  and  convalescent, 
and  would  suddenly  have  retreated,  but  the  Nevile  ad- 
vanced, and  courteously  taking  her  hand — 

"  Fair  maiden,"  said  he,  "  if,  as  I  trow,  I  owe  to  thy 
cares  my  tending  and  cure — nay,  it  may  be  a  life  hith- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  55 

erto  of  little  worth,  save  to  myself — do  not  fly  from 
my  thanks.  May  our  lady  of  Walsingham  bless  and 
reward  thee!  " 

"  Sir,"  answered  Sibyll,  gently  withdrawing  her 
hands  from  his  clasp,  "  our  poor  cares  have  been  a 
slight  return  for  thy  generous  protection  to  myself." 

"  To  thee!  ah,  forgive  me — how  could  I  be  so  dull? 
I  remember  thy  face  now;  and,  perchance,  I  deserved 
the  disaster  I  met  with  in  leaving  thee  so  discourte- 
ously. My  heart  smote  me  for  it  as  thy  light  footfall 
passed  from  my  side." 

A  slight  blush,  succeeded  by  a  thoughtful  smile — 
the  smile  of  one  who  recalls  and  caresses  some  not  dis- 
pleasing remembrance,  passed  over  Sibyll's  charming 
countenance,  as  the  sufferer  said  this  with  something 
of  the  grace  of  a  well-born  man,  whose  boyhood  had 
been  taught  to  serve  God  and  the  Ladies. 

There  was  a  short  pause  before  she  answered,  look- 
ing down,  "  Nay,  sir,  I  was  sufficiently  beholden  to 
you; — and  for  the  rest,  all  molestation  was  over.  But 
I  will  now  call  your  nurse — for  it  is  to  our  servant,  not 
us,  that  your  thanks  are  due — to  see  to  your  state,  and 
administer  the  proper  medicaments." 

"  Truly,  fair  damsel,  it  is  not  precisely  medicaments 
that  I  hunger  and  thirst  for;  but  if  your  hospitality 
could  spare  me  from  the  larder  a  manchet,  or  a  corner 
of  a  pasty,  and  from  the  cellar  a  stoup  of  wine  or  a 
cup  of  ale,  methinks  it  would  tend  more  to  restore  me 
than  those  potions  which  are  so  strange  to  my  taste 
that  they  rather  offend  than  tempt  it;  and,  pardie,  it 
seemeth  to  my  poor  senses  as  if  I  had  not  broken  bread 
for  a  week !  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  of  such  good  cheer,"  an- 
swered Sibyll;  "  wait  but  a  moment  or  so,  till  I  consult 
your  physician." 


56  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

And,  so  saying,  she  closed  the  door,  slowly  descend- 
ed the  steps,  and  pursued  her  way  into  what  seemed 
more  like  a  vault  than  a  habitable  room,  where  she 
found  the  single  servant  of  the  household.  Time, 
which  makes  changes  so  fantastic  in  the  dress  of  the 
better  classes,  has  a  greater  respect  for  the  costume 
of  the  humbler;  and,  though  the  garments  were  of  a 
very  coarse  sort  of  serge,  there  was  not  so  great  a  dif- 
ference, in  point  of  comfort  and  sufficiency,  as  might 
be  supposed,  between  the  dress  of  old  Madge  and  that 
of  some  primitive  servant  in  the  north  during  the  last 
century.  The  old  woman's  face  was  thin  and  pinched, 
but  its  sharp  expression  brightened  into  a  smile  as  she 
caught  sight,  through  the  damps  and  darkness,  of  the 
gracious  form  of  her  young  mistress.  "  Ah,  Madge," 
said  Sibyll,  with  a  sigh,  "  it  is  a  sad  thing  to  be  poor!  " 

"  For  such  as  thou,  Mistress  Sibyll,  it  is  indeed.  It 
does  not  matter  for  the  like  of  us.  But  it  goes  to  my 
old  heart  when  I  see  you  shut  up  here,  or  worse,  going 
out  in  that  old  courtpie  and  wimple — you,  a  knight's 
grandchild — you,  who  have  played  round  a  queen's 
knees,  and  who  might  have  been  so  well-to-do,  an'  my 
master  had  thought  a  little  more  of  the  gear  of  this 
world.  But  patience  is  a  good  palfrey,  and  will  carry 
us  a  long  day.  And  when  the  master  has  done  what 
he  looks  for,  why  the  king — sith  we  must  so  call  the 
new  man  on  the  throne — will  be  sure  to  reward  him; 
but,  sweetheart,  tarry  not  here;  it's  an  ill  air  for  your 
young  lips  to  drink  in.  What  brings  you  to  old 
Madge?" 

"  The  stranger  is  recovered,  and — 

"  Ay,  I  warrant  me,  I  have  cured  worse  than  he. 
He  must  have  a  spoonful  of  broth — I  have  not  forgot 
it.  You  see  I  wanted  no  dinner  myself — what  is  din- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  57 

tier  to  old  folks ! — so  I  e'en  put  it  all  in  the  pot  for  him. 
The  broth  will  be  brave  and  strong." 

"  My  poor  Madge,  God  requite  you  for  what  you 
suffer  for  us!  But  he  has  asked" — here  was  another 
sigh  and  a  downcast  look  that  did  not  dare  to  face  the 
consternation  of  Madge,  as  she  repeated,  with  a  half- 
sniile — "  he  has  asked — for  meat,  and  a  stoup  of  wine, 
Madge!" 

"  Eh,  sirs!  And  where  is  he  to  get  them?  Not 
that  it  will  be  bad  for  the  lad,  either.  Wine!  There's 
Master  Sancroft,  of  the  Oak,  will  not  trust  us  a  penny, 
the  seely  hilding,  and " 

"  Oh,  Madge,  I  forgot! — we  can  still  sell  the  gittern 
for  something.  Get  on  your  wimple,  Madge — quick 
— while  I  go  for  it." 

"  Why,  Mistress  Sibyll,  that's  your  only  pleasure, 
when  you  sit  all  alone,  the  long  summer  days." 

"  It  will  be  more  pleasure  to  remember  that  it  sup- 
plied the  wants  of  my  father's  guest,"  said  Sibyll;  and 
retracing  the  way  up  the  stairs,  she  returned  with  the 
broken  instrument,  and  despatched  Madge  with  it, 
laden  with  instructions  that  the  wine  should  be  of  the 
best.  She  then  once  more  mounted  the  rugged  steps, 
and  halting  a  moment  at  Marmaduke's  door,  as  she 
heard  his  feeble  step  walking  impatiently  to  and  fro, 
she  ascended  higher,  where  the  flight,  winding  up  a 
square  dilapidated  turret,  became  rougher,  narrower, 
and  darker,  and  opened  the  door  of  her  father's  re- 
treat. 

It  was  a  room  so  bare  of  ornament  and  furniture 
that  it  seemed  merely  wrought  out  of  the  mingled  rub- 
ble and  rough  stones  which  composed  the  walls  of  the 
mansion,  and  was  lighted  towards  the  street  by  a  nar- 
row slit,  glazed,  it  is  true, — which  all  the  windows  of 


58  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  house  were  not, — but  the  sun  scarcely  pierced  the 
dull  panes  and  the  deep  walls  in  which  they  were  sunk. 
The  room  contained  a  strong  furnace  and  a  rude  lab- 
oratory. There  were  several  strange-looking  mechan- 
ical contrivances  scattered  about,  several  manuscripts 
upon  some  oaken  shelves,  and  a  large  pannier  of  wood 
and  charcoal  in  the  corner.  In  that  poverty-stricken 
house,  the  money  spent  on  fuel  alone,  in  the  height 
of  summer,  would  have  comfortably  maintained  the  in- 
mates; but  neither  Sibyll  nor  Madge  ever  thought  to 
murmur  at  this  waste,  dedicated  to  what  had  become 
the  vital  want  of  a  man  who  drew  air  in  a  world  of  his 
own.  This  was  the  first  thing  to  be  provided  for;  and 
Science  was  of  more  imperative  necessity  than  even 
Hunger. 

Adam  Warner  was  indeed  a  creature  of  remarkable 
genius — and  genius,  in  an  age  where  it  is  not  appreci- 
ated, is  the  greatest  curse  the  iron  Fates  can  inflict  on 
man.  If  not  wholly  without  the  fond  fancies  which 
led  the  wisdom  of  the  darker  ages  to  the  philosopher's 
stone  and  the  elixir,  he  had  been  deterred  from  the 
chase  of  a  chimera  by  want  of  means  to  pursue  it;  for 
it  required  the  resources  or  the  patronage  of  a  prince 
or  noble  to  obtain  the  costly  ingredients  consumed  in 
the  alchemist's  crucible.  In  early  ,life,  therefore,  and 
while  yet  in  possession  of  a  competence,  derived  from 
a  line  of  distinguished  and  knightly  ancestors,  Adam 
Warner  had  devoted  himself  to  the  surer,  and  less 
costly,  study  of  the  mathematics,  which  then  had  be- 
gun to  attract  the  attention  of  the  learned,  but  which 
was  still  looked  upon  by  the  vulgar  as  a  branch  of 
the  black  art.  This  pursuit  had  opened  to  him  the  in- 
sight into  discoveries  equally  useful  and  sublime. 
They  necessitated  a  still  more  various  knowledge;  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  5$ 

in  an  age  when  there  was  no  division  of  labour,  and 
rare  and  precarious  communication  among  students, 
it  became  necessary  for  each  discoverer  to  acquire  suf- 
ficient science  for  his  own  collateral  experiments. 

In  applying  mathematics  to  the  practical  purposes 
of  life,  in  recognising  its  mighty  utilities  to  commerce 
and  civilisation,  Adam  Warner  was  driven  to  conjoin 
with  it,  not  only  an  extensive  knowledge  of  languages, 
but  many  of  the  rudest  tasks  of  the  mechanist's  art; 
and  chemistry  was,  in  some  of  his  researches,  sum- 
moned to  his  aid.  By  degrees,  the  tyranny  that  a 
man's  genius  exercises  over  his  life,  abstracted  him 
from  all  external  objects.  He  had  loved  his  wife  ten- 
derly, but  his  rapid  waste  of  his  fortune  in  the  pur- 
chase of  instruments  and  books,  then  enormously  dear, 
and  the  neglect  of  all  things  not  centred  in  the  hope 
to  be  the  benefactor  of  the  world,  had  ruined  her  health 
and  broken  her  heart.  Happily  Warner  perceived  not 
her  decay  till  just  before  her  death;  happily  he  never 
conceived  its  cause;  for  her  soul  was  wrapt  in  his.  She 
revered,  and  loved,  and  never'  upbraided  him.  Her 
heart  was  the  martyr  to  his  mind.  Had  she  foreseen 
the  future  destinies  of  her  daughter,  it  might  have  been 
otherwise.  She  could  have  remonstrated  with  the 
father,  though  not  with  the  husband.  But,  fortunate- 
ly, as  it  seemed  to  her,  she  (a  Frenchwoman  by  birth) 
had  passed  her  youth  in  the  service  of  Margaret  of 
Anjou,  and  that  haughty  queen,  who  was  equally 
warm  to  friends  and  inexorable  to  enemies,  had,  on 
her  attendant's  marriage,  promised  to  ensure  the  for- 
tunes of  her  offspring.  Sibyll,  at  the  age  of  nine, — • 
between  seven  and  eight  years  before  the  date  the 
story  enters  on,  and  two  years  prior  to  the  fatal  field 
of  Towton,  which  gave  to  Edward  the  throne  of  Eng- 


60  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

land,  had  been  admitted  among  the  young  girls  whom 
the  custom  of  the  day  ranked  amidst  the  attendants  of 
the  queen ;  and  in  the  interval  that  elapsed  before  Mar- 
garet was  obliged  to  dismiss  her  to  her  home,  her 
mother  died.  She  died  without  foreseeing  the  reverses 
that  were  to  ensue,  in  the  hope  that  her  child,  at  least, 
was  nobly  provided  for,  and  not  without  the  belief  (for 
there  is  so  much  faith  in  love!)  that  her  husband's  re- 
searches, which,  in  his  youth  had  won  favour  of  the 
Protector  duke  of  Gloucester,  the  most  enlightened 
prince  of  his  time,  would  be  crowned  at  last  with  the 
rewards  and  favours  of  his  king.  That  precise  period 
was,  indeed,  the  fairest  that  had  yet  dawned  upon  the 
philosopher.  Henry  VI.,  slowly  recovering  from  one 
of  those  attacks  which  passed  for  imbecility,  had  con- 
descended to  amuse  himself  with  various  conversations 
with  Warner,  urged  to  it  first  by  representations  of  the 
unholy  nature  of  the  student's  pursuits;  and,  having 
satisfied  his  mind  of  his  learned  subject's  orthodoxy, 
the  poor  monarch  had  taken  a  sort  of  interest,  not  so 
much,  perhaps,  in  the  objects  of  Warner's  occupations, 
as  in  that  complete  absorption  from  actual  life  which 
characterised  the  subject,  and  gave  him  in  this  a  mel- 
ancholy resemblance  to  the  king.  While  the  House  of 
Lancaster  was  on  the  throne,  the  wife  felt  that  her 
husband's  pursuits  would  be  respected,  and  his  harm- 
less life  safe  from  the  fierce  prejudices  of  the  people; 
and  the  good  queen  would  not  suffer  him  to  starve, 
when  the  last  mark  was  expended  in  devices  how  to 
benefit  his  country: — and  in  these  hopes  the  woman 
died! 

A  year  afterwards,  all  at  court  was  in  disorder — 
armed  men  supplied  the  service  of  young  girls,  and 
Sibyll,  with  a  purse  of  broad  pieces,  soon  converted 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  61 

into  manuscripts,  was  sent  back  to  her  father's  deso- 
late home.  There  had  she  grown  a  flower  amidst 
ruins — with  no  companion  of  her  own  age,  and  left 
to  bear,  as  her  sweet  and  affectionate  nature  well  did, 
the  contrast  between  the  luxuries  of  a  court  and  the 
penury  of  a  hearth  which,  year  after  year,  hunger  and 
want  came  more  and  more  sensibly  to  invade. 

Sibyll  had  been  taught,  even  as  a  child,  some  accom- 
plishments little  vouchsafed,  then,  to  either  sex — she 
could  read  and  write ;  and  Margaret  had  not  so  wholly 
lost,  in  the  sterner  north,  all  reminiscence  of  the  ac- 
complishments that  graced  her  father's  court,  as  to 
neglect  the  education  of  those  brought  up  in  her 
household.  Much  attention  was  given  to  music,  for 
it  soothed  the  dark  hours  of  King  Henry;  the  blazon- 
ing of  missals  or  the  lives  of  saints,  with  the  labours 
of  the  loom,  were  also  among  the  resources  of  Sibyll's 
girlhood,  and  by  these  last  she  had,  from  time  to  time, 
served  to  assist  the  maintenance  of  the  little  family  of 
which,  child  though  she  was,  she  became  the  actual 
head.  But  latterly — that  is,  for  the  last  few  weeks, 
even  these  sources  failed  her;  for  as  more  peaceful 
times  allowed  her  neighbours  to  interest  themselves 
in  the  affairs  of  others,  the  dark  reports  against  War- 
ner had  revived.  His  name  became  a  by-word  of  hor- 
ror— the  lonely  light  at  the  lattice  burning  till  mid- 
night— against  all  the  early  usages  and  habits  of  the 
day — the  dark  smoke  of  the  furnace,  constant  in  sum- 
mer as  in  winter,  scandalised  the  religion  of  the  place 
far  and  near;  and  finding,  to  their  great  dissatisfaction, 
that  the  king's  government  and  the  Church  interfered 
not  for  their  protection,  and  unable  themselves  to  vol- 
unteer any  charges  against  the  recluse  (for  the  cows 
in  the  neighbourhood  remained  provokingly  healthy), 


62 

they  came  suddenly,  and,  as  it  were  by  one  of  those 
common  sympathies  which  in  all  times  the  huge  per- 
secutor we  call  the  PUBLIC  manifests,  when  a  victim 
is  to  be  crushed, — to  the  pious  resolution  of  starving 
where  they  could  not  burn.  Why  buy  the  quaint 
devilries  of  the  wizard's  daughter? — no  luck  could 
come  of  it.  A  missal  blazoned  by  such  hands — an  em- 
broidery worked  at  such  a  loom,  was  like  the  Lord's 
Prayer  read  backwards.  And  one  morning,  when 
poor  Sibyll  stole  out  as  usual  to  vend  a  month's 
labour,  she  was  driven  from  door  to  door  with  oaths 
and  curses. 

Though  Sibyll's  heart  was  gentle,  she  was  not  with- 
out a  certain  strength  of  mind.  She  had  much  of  the 
patient  devotion  of  her  mother,  much  of  the  quiet  for- 
titude of  her  father's  nature.  If  not  comprehending  to 
the  full  the  loftiness  of  Warner's  pursuits,  she  still  an- 
ticipated from  them  an  ultimate  success  which  recon- 
ciled her  to  all  temporary  sacrifices.  The  violent  prej- 
udices— the  ignorant  cruelty,  thus  brought  to  bear 
against  existence  itself,  filled  her  with  sadness,  it  is 
true,  but  not  unmixed  with  that  contempt  for  her  per- 
secutors, which,  even  in  the  meekest  tempers,  takes 
the  sting  from  despair.  But  hunger  pressed.  Her 
father  was  nearing  the  goal  of  his  discoveries,  and  in 
a  moment  of  that  pride  which  in  its  very  contempt 
for  appearances  braves  them  all,  Sibyll  had  stolen  out 
to  the  pastime-ground, — with  what  result  has  been 
seen  already.  Having  thus  accounted  for  the  penury 
of  the  mansion,  we  return  to  its  owner. 

Warner  was  contemplating  with  evident  compla- 
cency and  delight  the  model  of  a  machine  which  had 
occupied  him  for  many  years,  and  which  he  imagined 
he  was  now  rapidly  bringing  to  perfection.  His  hands 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  63 

and  face  were  grimed  with  the  smoke  of  his  forge,  and 
his  hair  and  beard,  neglected  as  usual,  looked  parched 
and  dried  up,  as  if  with  the  constant  fever  that  burned 
within. 

"  Yes — yes,"  he  muttered — "  how  they  will  bless  me 
for  this!  What  Roger  Bacon  only  suggested  I  shall 
accomplish!  How  it  will  change  the  face  of  the 
globe!  What  wealth  it  will  bestow  on  ages  yet  un- 
born!" 

"  My  father,"  said  the  gentle  voice  of  Sibyll — "  my 
poor  father,  thou  hast  not  tasted  bread  to-day." 

Warner  turned,  and  his  face  relaxed  into  a  tender 
expression  as  he  saw  his  daughter. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  pointing  to  his  model,  "  the 
time  comes  when  it  will  live!  Patience — patience!  " 

"  And  who  would  not  have  patience  with  thee,  and 
for  thee,  father?"  said  Sibyll,  with  enthusiasm  speak- 
ing on  every  feature. — "  What  is  the  valour  of  knight 
and  soldier — dull  statues  of  steel — to  thine?  Thou, 
with  thy  naked  breast,  confronting  all  dangers — 
sharper  than  the  lance  and  glaive,  and  all " 

"  All  to  make  England  great!  " 

"  Alas !  what  hath  England  merited  from  men  like 
thee!  The  people  more  savage  than  their  rulers, 
clamour  for  the  stake,  the  gibbet,  and  the  dungeon,  for 
all  who  strive  to  make  them  wiser.  Remember  the 
death  of  Bolingbroke;* — a  wizard,  because,  O  father! 
— because  his  pursuits  were  thine!  " 

Adam,  startled  by  this  burst,  looked  at  his  daughter 
with  more  attention  than  he  usually  evinced  to  any  liv- 
ing thing:  "  Child,"  he  said,  at  length,  shaking  his 

*  A  mathematician  accused  as  an  accomplice,  in  sorcery,  of 
Eleanor  Cobham,  wife  of  Humphrey,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  and 
hanged  upon  that  charge.  His  contemporary  (William  Wyr- 
cestre)  highly  extols  his  learning. 


64  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

head  in  grave  reproof,  "  let  me  not  say  to  thee,  '  O 
thou  of  little  faith! '  There  were  no  heroes  were  there 
no  martyrs !  " 

"  Do  not  frown  on  me,  father,"  said  Sibyll,  sadly; 
"  let  the  world  frown — not  thou!  Yes,  thou  art  right. 
Thou  must  triumph  at  last."  And  suddenly  her  whole 
countenance,  changing  into  a  soft  and  caressing  en- 
dearment, she  added — "  But  now  come,  father.  Thou 
hast  laboured  well  for  this  morning.  We  shall  have 
a  little  feast  for  thee  in  a  few  minutes.  And  the 
stranger  is  recovered,  thanks  to  our  leechcraft.  He  is 
impatient  to  see  and  thank  thee." 

"  Well — well,  I  come,  Sibyll,"  said  the  student,  with 
a  regretful,  lingering  look  at  his  model,  and  a  sigh  to 
be  disturbed  from  its  contemplation;  and  he  slowly 
quitted  the  room  with  Sibyll. 

"  But  not,  dear  sir  and  father,  not  thus — not  quite 
thus — will  you  go  to  the  stranger,  well-born  like  your- 
self. Oh,  no!  your  Sibyll  is  proud,  you  know — proud 
of  her  father."  So  saying,  she  clung  to  him  fondly, 
and  drew  him  mechanically,  for  he  had  sunk  into  a 
reverie,  and  heeded  her  not,  into  an  adjoining  cham- 
ber in  which  he  slept.  The  comforts  even  of  the  gen- 
try, of  men  with  the  acres  that  Adam  had  sold,  were 
then  few  and  scanty.  The  nobles  and  the  wealthy 
merchants,  indeed,  boasted  many  luxuries  that  ex- 
celled in  gaud  and  pomp  those  of  their  equals  now. 
But  the  class  of  the  gentry  who  had  very  little  money 
at  command,  were  contented  with  hardships  from 
which  a  menial  of  this  day  would  revolt.  What  they 
could  spend  in  luxury  was  usually  consumed  in  dress 
and  the  table  they  were  obliged  to  keep.  These  were 
the  essentials  of  dignity.  Of  furniture  there  was  a  woe- 
ful stint.  In  many  houses,  even  of  knights,  an  edifice 


My  poor  father,  thou  hast  not  tasted  bread  to-day." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  65 

large  enough  to  occupy  a  quadrangle,  was  composed 
more  of  offices  than  chambers  inhabited  by  the  owners ; 
rarely  boasting  more  than  three  beds,  which  were  be- 
queathed in  wills  as  articles  of  great  value.  The  reader 
must,  therefore,  not  be  surprised  that  Warner's  abode 
contained  but  one  bed,  properly  so  called,  and  that 
was  now  devoted  to  Nevile.  The  couch  which  served 
the  philosopher  for  bed  was  a  wretched  pallet, 
stretched  on  the  floor,  stuffed  with  straw, — with  rough 
say  or  serge,  and  an  old  cloak  for  the  coverings.  His 
daughter's,  in  a  room  below,  was  little  better.  The 
walls  were  bare;  the  whole  house  boasted  but  one 
chair,  which  was  in  Marmaduke's  chamber — stools,  or 
settles,  of  rude  oak,  elsewhere  supplied  their  place. 
There  was  no  chimney,  except  in  Nevile's  room,  and 
in  that  appropriated  to  the  forge. 

To  this  chamber,  then,  resembling  a  dungeon  in  ap- 
pearance, Sibyll  drew  the  student,  and  here,  from  an 
old  worm-eaten  chest,  she  carefully  extracted  a  gown 
of  brown  velvet,  which  his  father,  Sir  Armine,  had  be- 
queathed to  him  by  will,  faded,  it  is  true,  but  still  such 
as  the  low-born  wore  not,*  trimmed  with  fur,  and 
clasped  with  a  brooch  of  gold.  And  then  she  held  the 
ewer  and  basin  to  him,  while,  with  the  docility  of  a 
child,  he  washed  the  smoke-soil  from  his  hands  and 
face.  It  was  touching  to  see  in  this,  as  in  all  else,  the 
reverse  of  their  natural  position — the  child  tending  and 
heeding,  and  protecting,  as  it  were,  the  father;  and 
that  not  from  his  deficiency,  but  his  greatness;  not  be- 
cause he  was  below  the  vulgar  intelligences  of  life, 
but  above  them.  And  certainly,  when,  his  patriarchal 
hair  and  beard  smoothed  into  order,  and  his  velvet 

*  By  the  sumptuary  laws  only  a  knight  was  entitled  to  wear 
velvet. 

VOL.  I.— 5 


66  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

gown  flowing  in  majestic  folds  around  a  figure  tall  and 
commanding,  Sibyll  followed  her  father  into  Marma- 
duke's  chamber, — she  might  well  have  been  proud  of 
his  appearance.  And  she  felt  the  innocent  vanity  of 
her  sex  and  age,  in  noticing  the  half-start  of  surprise 
with  which  Marmaduke  regarded  his  host,  and  the 
tone  of  respect  in  which  he  proffered  him  his  saluta- 
tions and  thanks.  Even  his  manner  altered  to  Sibyll; 
it  grew  less  frank  and  affable,  more  courtly  and  re- 
served: and  when  Madge  came  to  announce  that  the 
refection  was  served,  it  was  with  a  blush  of  shame, 
perhaps,  at  his  treatment  of  the  poor  gittern-player  on 
the  pastime-ground,  that  the  Nevile  extended  his  left 
hand,  for  his  right  was  still  not  at  his  command,  to 
lead  the  damsel  to  the  hall. 

This  room,  which  was  divided  from  the  entrance  by 
a  screen,  and,  except  a  small  closet  that  adjoined  it, 
was  the  only  sitting-room  in  a  day,  when,  as  now  on 
the  Continent,  no  shame  was  attached  to  receiving 
visitors  in  sleeping  apartments,  was  long  and  low;  an 
old,  and  very  narrow  table,  that  might  have  feasted 
thirty  persons,  stretched  across  a  dais  raised  upon  a 
stone  floor;  there  was  no  rere-dosse,  or  fire-place, 
which  does  not  seem  at  that  day  to  have  been  an  ab- 
solute necessity  in  the  houses  of  the  metropolis  and 
its  suburbs;  its  place  being  supplied  by  a  movable 
brazier.  Three  oak  stools  were  placed  in  state  at  the 
board,  and  to  one  of  these  Marmaduke,  in  a  silence 
unusual  to  him,  conducted  the  fair  Sibyll. 

"  You  will  forgive  our  lack  of  provisions,"  said 
Warner,  relapsing  into  the  courteous  fashions  of  his 
elder  days,  which  the  unwonted  spectacle  of  a  cold 
capon,  a  pasty,  and  a  flask  of  wine,  brought  to  his  mind 
by  a  train  of  ideas  that  actively  glided  by  the  interven- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  67 

ing  circumstances  which  ought  to  have  filled  him  with 
astonishment  at  the  sight,  "  for  my  Sibyll  is  but  a 
young  housewife,  and  I  am  a  simple  scholar,  of  few 
wants." 

"  Verily,"  answered  Marmaduke,  finding  his  tongue 
as  he  attacked  the  pasty,  "  I  see  nothing  that  the  most 
dainty  need  complain  of;  fair  Mistress  Sibyll,  your 
dainty  lips  will  not,  I  trow,  refuse  me  the  waisall.* 
To  you  also,  worshipful  sir!  Gramercy!  it  seems  that 
there  is  nothing  which  better  stirs  a  man's  appetite 
than  a  sick  bed.  And,  speaking  thereof,  deign  to  in- 
form me,  kind  sir,  how  long  I  have  been  indebted  to 
your  hospitality.  Of  a  surety,  this  pasty  hath  an  ex- 
cellent flavour,  and  if  not  venison,  is  something  better. 
But  to  return,  it  mazes  me  much  to  think  what  time 
hath  passed  since  my  encounter  with  the  robbers." 

"  They  were  robbers,  then,  who  so  cruelly  assailed 
thee?"  observed  Sibyll. 

"  Have  I  not  said  so — surely,  who  else?  and,  as  I 
was  remarking  to  your  worshipful  father,  whether  this 
mischance  happened  hours,  days,  months,  or  years 
ago,  beshrew  me  if  I  can  venture  the  smallest  guess." 

Master  Warner  smiled,  and  observing  that  some  re- 
ply was  expected  from  him,  said,  "  Why,  indeed,  young 
sir,  I  fear  I  am  almost  as  oblivious  as  yourself.  It  was 
not  yesterday  that  you  arrived,  nor  the  day  before, 
nor — Sibyll,  my  child,  how  long  is  it  since  this  gentle- 
man hath  been  our  guest?  " 

"  This  is  the  fifth  day,"  answered  Sibyll. 

"  So  long!  and  I  like  a  senseless  log  by  the  wayside, 
when  others  are  pushing  on  bit  and  spur,  to  the  great 
road.  I  pray  you,  sir,  tell  me  the  news  of  the  morn- 

*  i.e.,  Waissail  or  wassal ;  the  spelling  of  the  time  is  adopted 
in  the  text. 


68  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

ing.     The  Lord  Warwick  is  still  in  London — the  court 
still  at  the  Tower?  "  f 

Poor  Adam,  whose  heart  was  with  his  model,  and 
who  had  now  satisfied  his  temperate  wants,  looked 
somewhat  bewildered  and  perplexed  by  this  question: 
"  The  king,  save  his  honoured  head,"  said  he,  inclining 
his  own,  "  is,  I  fear  me,  always  at  the  Tower  since  his 
unhappy  detention,  but  he  minds  it  not,  sir — he  heeds 
it  not;  his  soul  is  not  on  this  side  Paradise." 

Sibyll  uttered  a  faint  exclamation  of  fear  at  this  dan- 
gerous indiscretion  of  her  father's  absence  of  mind: 
and  drawing  closer  to  Nevile,  she  put  her  hand  with 
touching  confidence  on  his  arm,  and  whispered — 
"  You  will  not  repeat  this,  sir!  my  father  lives  only  in 
his  studies,  and  he  has  never  known  but  one  king!  " 

Marmaduke  turned  his  bold  face  to  the  maid,  and 
pointed  to  the  salt-cellar,  as  he  answered  in  the  same 
tone — "  Does  the  brave  man  betray  his  host?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Marmaduke  rose. 
"  I  fear,"  said  he,  "  that  I  must  now  leave  you ;  and, 
while  it  is  yet  broad  noon,  I  must  indeed  be  blind  if 
I  again  miss  my  way." 

This  speech  suddenly  recalled  Adam  from  his  med- 
itations, for  whenever  his  kindly  and  simple  benevo- 
lence was  touched,  even  his  mathematics  and  his 
model  were  forgotten.  "  No,  young  sir,"  said  he, ' 
"  you  must  not  quit  us  yet;  your  danger  is  not  over. 
Exercise  may  bring  fever.  Celsus  recommends  quiet. 
You  must  consent  to  tarry  with  us  a  day  or  two  more." 

"  Can  you  tell  me,"  said  the  Nevile,  hesitatingly, 
"  what  distance  it  is  to  the  Temple-gate,  or  the  nearest 
wharf  on  the  river?  " 

"  Two  miles,  at  the  least,"  answered  Sibyll. 

"Two  miles! — and  now  I  mind  me,  I  have  not  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  69 

accoutrements  that  beseem  me.  Those  hildings  have 
stolen  my  mantle  (which,  I  perceive,  by  the  way,  is  but 
a  rustic  garment,  now  laid  aside  for  the  super-tunic), 
and  my  hat  and  dague,  nor  have  they  left  even  a  half 
groat  to  supply  their  place.  Verily,  therefore,  since 
ye  permit  me  to  burden  your  hospitality  longer,  I  will 
not  say  ye  nay,  provided  you,  worshipful  sir,  will  suffer 
one  of  your  people  to  step  to  the  house  of  one  Master 
Heyford,  goldsmith,  in  the  Chepe,  and  crave  one  Nich- 
olas Alwyn,  his  freedman,  to  visit  me.  I  can  commis- 
sion him  touching  my  goods  left  at  mine  hostelrie,  and 
learn  some  other  things  which  it  behoves  me  to  know." 

"  Assuredly.  Sibyll,  tell  Simon  or  Jonas  to  put  him- 
self under  our  guest's  order." 

Simon  or  Jonas !  The  poor  Adam  absolutely  forgot 
that  Simon  and  Jonas  had  quitted  the  house  these  six 
years!  How  could  he  look  on  the  capon,  the  wine, 
and  the  velvet  gown  trimmed  with  fur,  and  not  fancy 
himself  back  in  the  heyday  of  his  wealth? 

Sibyll  half  smiled  and  half  sighed,  as  she  withdrew 
to  consult  with  her  sole  counsellor,  Madge,  how  the 
guest's  orders  were  to  be  obeyed,  and  how,  alas !  the 
board  was  to  be  replenished  for  the  evening  meal. 
But  in  both  these  troubles  she  was  more  fortunate 
than  she  anticipated.  Madge  had  sold  the  broken 
gittern,  for  musical  instruments  were  then,  compara- 
tively speaking,  dear  (and  this  had  been  a  queen's 
gift),  for  sufficient  to  provide  decently  for  some  days, 
and,  elated  herself  with  the  prospect  of  so  much  good 
cheer,  she  readily  consented  to  be  the  messenger  to 
Nicholas  Alwyn. 

When  with  a  light  step,  and  a  lighter  heart,  Sibyll 
tripped  back  to  the  hall,  she  was  scarcely  surprised  to 
find  the  guest  alone.  Her  father,  after  her  departure, 


70  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

had  begun  to  evince  much  restless  perturbation.  He 
answered  Marmaduke's  queries  but  by  abstracted  and 
desultory  monosyllables,  and  seeing  his  guest  at  length 
engaged  in  contemplating  some  old  pieces  of  armour 
hung  upon  the  walls,  he  stole  stealthily  and  furtively 
away,  and  halted  not  till  once  more  before  his  beloved 
model. 

Unaware  of  his  departure,  Marmaduke,  whose  back 
was  turned  to  him,  was,  as  he  fondly  imagined,  en- 
lightening his  host  with  much  soldier-like  learning  as 
to  the  old  helmets  and  weapons  that  graced  the  hall. 
"  Certes,  my  host,"  said  he,  musingly,  "  that  sort  of 
casque,  which  has  not,  I  opine,  been  worn  this  cen- 
tury, had  its  merits;  the  vizor  is  less  open  to  the  ar- 
rows. But,  as  for  these  chain  suits,  they  suited  only 
— I  venture,  with  due  deference,  to  declare — the  Wars 
of  the  Crusades,  where  the  enemy  fought  chiefly  with 
dart  and  scymetar.  They  would  be  but  a  sorry  de- 
fence against  the  mace  and  battle-axe;  nevertheless, 
they  were  light  for  man  and  horse,  and  in  some  service, 
especially  against  foot,  might  be  revived  with  advan- 
tage. Think  you  not  so?  " 

He  turned,  and  saw  the  arch  face  of  Sibyll. 

"  I  crave  pardon  for  my  blindness,  gentle  damsel," 
said  he,  in  some  confusion,  "  but  your  father  was  here 
anon." 

"  His  mornings  are  so  devoted  to  labour,"  answered 
Sibyll,  "  that  he  entreats  you  to  pardon  his  discour- 
tesy. Meanwhile,  if  you  would  wish  to  breathe  the 
air,  we  have  a  small  garden  in  the  rear;  "  and  so  say- 
ing, she  led  the  way  into  the  small  withdrawing-room, 
or  rather  closet,  which  was  her  own  favourite  cham- 
ber, and  which  communicated,  by  another  door,  with 
a  broad,  neglected  grass-plot,  surrounded  by  high 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  71 

walls,  having  a  raised  terrace  in  front,  divided  by  a  low 
stone  Gothic  palisade  from  the  green  sward. 

On  the  palisade  sat  droopingly,  and  half  asleep,  a 
solitary  peacock;  but  when  Sibyll  and  the  stranger 
appeared  at  the  door,  he  woke  up  suddenly,  descended 
from  his  height,  and,  with  a  vanity  not  wholly  unlike 
his  young  mistress's  wish  to  make  the  best  possible 
display  in  the  eyes  of  a  guest — spread  his  plumes 
broadly  in  the  sun.  Sibyll  threw  him  some  bread, 
which  she  had  taken  from  the  table  for  that  purpose; 
but  the  proud  bird,  however  hungry,  disdained  to  eat, 
till  he  had  thoroughly  satisfied  himself  that  his  glories 
had  been  sufficiently  observed. 

"  Poor  proud  one,"  said  Sibyll,  half  to  herself,  "  thy 
plumage  lasts  with  thee  through  all  changes." 

"Like  the  name  of  a  brave  knight,"  said  Marmj- 
duke,  who  overheard  her. 

"  Thou  thinkest  of  the  career  of  arms." 

"Surely — I  am  a  Nevile!  " 

"  Is  there  no  fame  to  be  won  but  that  of  a  warrior?  " 

"  Not  that  I  weet  of,  or  heed  for,  Mistress  Sibyll." 

"  Thinkest  thou  it  were  nothing  to  be  a  minstrel, 
who  gave  delight? — a  scholar,  who  dispelled  dark- 
ness? " 

"  For  the  scholar?  certes,  I  respect  holy  Mother 
Church,  which  they  tell  me  alone  produces  that  kind 
of  wonder  with  full  safety  to  the  soul,  and  that  only 
in  the  higher  prelates  and  dignitaries.  For  the  min- 
strel, I  love  him — I  would  fight  for  him — I  would  give 
him  at  need  the  last  penny  in  my  gipsire.  But  it  is 
better  to  do  deeds  than  to  sing  them." 

Sibyll  smiled,  and  the  smile  perplexed  and  half  dis- 
pleased the  young  adventurer.  But  the  fire  of  the 
young  man  had  its  charm. 


72  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

By  degrees,  as  they  walked  to  and  fro  the  neglected 
terrace,  their  talk  flowed  free  and  familiar;  for  Marma- 
duke,  like  most  young  men,  full  of  himself,  was  joyous 
with  the  happy  egotism  of  a  frank  and  careless  nature. 
He  told  his  young  confidante  of  a  day  his  birth,  his 
history,  his  hopes,  and  fears;  and  in  return  he  learned, 
in  answer  to  the  questions  he  addressed  to  her,  so 
much,  at  least,  of  her  past  and  present  life — as  the  re- 
verses of  her  father,  occasioned  by  costly  studies — her 
own  brief  sojourn  at  the  court  of  Margaret — and  the 
solitude,  if  not  the  struggles,  in  which  her  youth  was 
consumed.  It  would  have  been  a  sweet  and  grateful 
sight  to  some  kindly  bystander  to  hear  these  pleasant 
communications  between  two  young  persons  so  un- 
friended, and  to  imagine  that  hearts  thus  opened  to 
each  other  unite  in  one.  But  Sibyll,  though  she  list- 
ened to  him  with  interest,  and  found  a  certain  sym- 
pathy in  hi<^  aspirations,  was  ever  and  anon  secretly 
comparing  him  to  one,  the  charm  of  whose  voice  still 
lingered  in  her  ears;  and  her  intellect,  cultivated  and 
acute,  detected  in  Marmaduke  deficient  education — 
and  that  limited  experience  which  is  the  folly  and  the 
happiness  of  the  young. 

On  the  other  hand,  whatever  admiration  Nevile 
might  conceive,  was  strangely  mixed  with  surprise, 
and,  it  might  almost  be  said,  with  fear.  This  girl, 
with  her  wise  converse  and  her  child's  face,  was  a  char- 
acter so  thoroughly  new  to  him.  Her  language  was 
superior  to  what  he  had  ever  heard,  the  words  more 
choice,  the  current  more  flowing — was  that  to  be  at- 
tributed to  her  court-training  or  her  learned  par- 
entage? 

"  Your  father,  fair  mistress,"  said  he,  rousing  him- 
self in  one  of  the  pauses  of  their  conversation — "  your 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  73 

father,  then,  is  a  mighty  scholar,  and  I  suppose  knows 
Latin  like  English?" 

"  Why,  a  hedge  priest  pretends  to  know  Latin,"  said 
Sibyll,  smiling;  "  my  father  is  one  of  the  six  men  liv- 
ing who  have  learned  the  Greek  and  the  Hebrew." 

"Gramercy!"  cried  Marmaduke,  crossing  himself. 
"  That  is  awsome  indeed!  He  has  taught  you  his  lere 
in  the  tongues?  " 

"  Nay,  I  know  but  my  own  and  the  French ;  my 
mother  was  a  native  of  France." 

"The  Holy  Mother  be  praised!"  said  Marmaduke, 
breathing  more  freely;  "  for  French  I  have  heard  my 
father  and  uncle  say  is  a  language  fit  for  gentles  and 
knights,  specially  those  who  come,  like  the  Neviles, 
from  Norman  stock.  This  Margaret  of  Anjou — didst 
thou  love  her  well,  Mistress  Sibyll?" 

"  Nay,"  answered  Sibyll,  "  Margaret  commanded 
awe,  but  she  scarcely  permitted  love  from  an  inferior: 
and  though  gracious  and  well-governed  when  she  so 
pleased,  it  was  but  to  those  whom  she  wished  to  win. 
She  cared  not  for  the  heart,  if  the  hand  or  the  brain 
could  not  assist  her.  But,  poor  queen,  who  could 
blame  her  for  this? — her  nature  was  turned  from  its 
milk;  and,  when,  more  lately,  I  have  heard  how  many 
she  trusted  most  have  turned  against  her,  I  rebuked 
myself  that " 

"Thou  wert  not  by  her  side!"  added  the  Nevile, 
observing  her  pause,  and  with  the  generous  thought  of 
a  gentleman  and  a  soldier. 

"  Nay,  I  meant  not  that  so  expressly,  Master  Nevile, 
but  rather  that  I  had  ever  murmured  at  her  haste  and 
shrewdness  of  mood.  By  her  side,  said  you? — alas! 
I  have  a  nearer  duty  at  home;  my  father  is  all  in  this 
world  to  me!  Thou  knowest  not,  Master  Nevile,  how 


74  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

it  flatters  the  weak  to  think  there  is  some  one  they  can 
protect.  But  eno'  of  myself.  Thou  wilt  go  to  the 
stout  earl,  thou  wilt  pass  to  the  court,  thou  wilt  win 
the  gold  spurs,  and  thou  wilt  fight  with  the  strong 
hand,  and  leave  others  to  cozen  with  the  keen  head." 

"  She  is  telling  my  fortune!  "  muttered  Marmaduke, 
crossing  himself  again.  "  The  gold  spurs — I  thank 
thee,  Mistress  Sibyll! — will  it  be  on  the  battle-field  that 
I  shall  be  knighted,  and  by  whose  hand?  " 

Sibyll  glanced  her  bright  eye  at  the  questioner,  and 
seeing  his  wistful  face,  laughed  outright. 

"  What,  thinkest  thou,  Master  Nevile,  I  can  read 
thee  all  riddles  without  my  sieve  and  my  shears?" 

"They  are  essentials,  then,  Mistress  Sibyll?"  said 
the  Nevile,  with  blunt  simplicity.  "  I  thought  ye  more 
learned  damozels  might  tell  by  the  palm,  or  the — why 
dost  thou  laugh  at  me?  " 

"  Nay,"  answered  Sibyll,  composing  herself.  "  It 
is  my  right  to  be  angered.  Sith  thou  wouldst  take  me 
to  be  a  witch,  all  that  I  can  tell  thee  of  thy  future  (she 
added  touchingly)  is  from  that  which  I  have  seen  of 
thy  past.  Thou  hast  a  brave  heart,  and  a  gentle;  thou 
hast  a  frank  tongue,  and  a  courteous ;  and  these  quali- 
ties make  men  honoured  and  loved — except  they  have 
the  gifts  which  turn  all  into  gall,  and  bring  oppression 
for  honour,  and  hate  for  love." 

"And  those  gifts,  gentle  Sibyll?" 

"  Are  my  father's,"  answered  the  girl,  with  another 
and  a  sadder  change  in  her  expressive  countenance. 
And  the  conversation  flagged  till  Marmaduke,  feeling 
more  weakened  by  his  loss  of  blood  than  he  had  con- 
ceived it  possible,  retired  to  his  chamber  to  repose  him- 
self. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  75 


CHAPTER  VI 

MASTER    MARMADUKE    NEVILE    FEARS    FOR   THE    SPIRIT- 
UAL  WEAL   OF  HIS   HOST   AND   HOSTESS 

I 

Before  the  hour  of  supper,  which  was  served  at  six 
o'clock,  Nicholas  Alwyn  arrived  at  the  house  indi- 
cated to  him  by  Madge.  Marmaduke,  after  a  sound 
sleep,  which  was  little  flattering  to  Sibyll's  attractions, 
had  descended  to  the  hall  in  search  of  the  maiden  and 
his  host,  and  finding  no  one,  had  sauntered  in  extreme 
weariness  and  impatience  into  the  little  withdrawing- 
closet,  where,  as  it  was  now  dusk,  burned  a  single  can- 
dle in  a  melancholy  and  rustic  sconce;  standing  by  the 
door  that  opened  on  the  garden,  he  amused  himself 
with  watching  the  peacock,  when  his  friend,  following 
Madge  into  the  chamber,  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Well,  Master  Nevile.  Ha!  by  St.  Thomas,  what 
has  chanced  to  thee?  Thine  arm  swathed  up,  thy  locks 
shorn,  thy  face  blanched!  My  honoured  foster- 
brother,  thy  Westmoreland  blood  seems  over-hot  for 
Cockaigne! " 

"  If  so,  there  are  plenty  in  this  city  of  cut-throats, 
to  let  out  the  surplusage,"  returned  Marmaduke;  and 
he  briefly  related  his  adventure  to  Nicholas. 

When  he  had  done,  the  kind  trader  reproached  him- 
self for  having  suffered  Marmaduke  to  find  his  way 
alone.  "  The  suburbs  abound  with  these  miscreants," 
said  he ;  "  and  there  is  more  danger  in  a  night-walk 
near  London,  than  in  the  loneliest  glens  of  green  Sher- 
wood— more  shame  to  the  city!  An'  I  be  Lord 
Mayor,  one  of  these  days,  I  will  look  to  it  better.  But 
our  civil  wars  make  men  hold  human  life  very  cheap, 
and  there's  parlous  little  care  from  the  great,  of  the 


76  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

blood  and  limbs  of  the  wayfarers.  But  war  makes 
thieves — and  peace  hangs  them!  Only  wait  till  I 
manage  affairs!  " 

"  Many  thanks  to  thee,  Nicholas,"  returned  the  Ne- 
vile;  "  but  foul  befall  me  if  ever  I  seek  protection  from 
sheriff  or  mayor!  A  man  who  cannot  keep  his  own 
life  with  his  own  right  hand,  merits  well  to  haplose  it; 
and  I,  for  one,  shall  think  ill  of  the  day  when  an  Eng- 
lishman looks  more  to  the  laws  than  his  good  arm  for 
his  safety;  but,  letting  this  pass,  I  beseech  thee  to  ad- 
vise me  if  my  Lord  Warwick  be  still  in  the  city?  " 

"  Yes,  marry,  I  know  that  by  the  hostelries,  which 
swarm  with  his  badges,  and  the  oxen,  that  go  in  scores 
to  the  shambles!  It  is  a  shame  to  the  Estate  to  see 
one  subject  so  great,  and  it  bodes  no  good  to  our 
peace.  The  earl  is  preparing  the  most  magnificent 
embassage  that  ever  crossed  the  salt  seas — I  would  it 
were  not  to  the  French,  for  our  interests  lie  contrary; 
but  thou  hast  some  days  yet  to  rest  here  and  grow 
stout,  for  I  would  not  have  thee  present  thyself  with 
a  visage  of  chalk  to  a  man  who  values  his  kind  mainly 
by  their  thews  and  their  sinews.  Moreover,  thou 
shouldst  send  for  the  tailor,  and  get  thee  trimmed  to 
the  mark.  It  would  be  a  long  step  in  thy  path  to  pro- 
motion, an'  the  earl  would  take  thee  in  his  train;  and 
the  gaudier  thy  plumes,  why  the  better  chance  for  thy 
flight.  Wherefore,  since  thou  sayest  they  are  thus 
friendly  to  thee  under  this  roof,  bide  yet  awhile  peace- 
fully— I  will  send  thee  the  mercer,  and  the  clothier,  and 
the  tailor,  to  divert  thy  impatience.  And,  as  these  fel- 
lows are  greedy,  my  gentle  and  dear  Master  Nevile, 
may  I  ask,  without  offence,  how  thou  art  provided?  " 

"  Nay,  nay,  I  have  moneys  at  the  hostelrie,  an'  thou 
wilt  send  me  my  mails.  For  the  rest,  I  like  thy  advice, 
and  will  take  it." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  77 

"Good!"  answered  Nicholas.  "Hem!  thou  seem- 
est  to  have  got  into  a  poor  house — a  decayed  gentle- 
man, I  wot,  by  the  slovenly  ruin!  " 

"  I  would  that  were  the  worst,"  replied  Marmaduke, 
solemnly,  and  under  his  breath,  and  therewith  he  re- 
peated to  Nicholas  the  adventure  on  the  pastime- 
ground,  the  warnings  of  the  timbrel-girls,  and  the 
"  awsome  "  learning  and  strange  pursuits  of  his  host. 
As  for  Sibyll,  he  was  evidently  inclined  to  attribute  to 
glamour  the  reluctant  admiration  with  which  she  had 
inspired  him.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  though  I  deny  not 
that  the  maid  is  passing  fair — there  be  many  with 
rosier  cheeks,  and  taller  by  this  hand!  " 

Nicholas  listened,  at  first,  with  the  peculiar  expres- 
sion of  shrewd  sarcasm  which  mainly  characterised  his 
intelligent  face,  but  his  attention  grew  more  earnest 
before  Marmaduke  had  concluded. 

"  In  regard  to  the  maiden,"  said  he,  smiling  and 
shaking  his  head,  "  it  is  not  always  the  handsomest 
that  win  us  the  most — while  fair  Meg  went  a  maying, 
black  Mog  got  to  church — and  I  give  thee  more  rea- 
sonable warning  than  thy,  timbrel-girls,  when,  in  spite 
of  thy  cold  language,  I  bid  thee  take  care  of  thyself 
against  her  attractions;  for,  verily,  my  dear  foster- 
brother,  thou  must  mend,  and  not  mar  thy  fortune, 
by  thy  love  matters;  and  keep  thy  heart  whole  for 
some  fair  one  with  marks  in  her  gipsire,  whom  the  earl 
may  find  out  for  thee.  Love  and  raw  pease  are  two 
ill  things  in  the  porridge-pot.  But  the  father! — I  mind 
me  now  that  I  have  heard  of  his  name,  through  my 
friend  Master  Caxton,  the  mercer,  as  one  of  prodigi- 
ous skill  in  the  mathematics.  I  should  like  much  to 
see  him,  and,  with  thy  leave  (an'  he  ask  me),  will  tarry 
to  supper.  But  what  are  these?  " — and  Nicholas  took 


78  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

up  one  of  the  illuminated  MSS.  which  Sibyll  had  pre- 
pared for  sale.  "By  the  blood!  this  is  couthly  and 
marvellously  blazoned." 

The  book  was  still  in  his  hand  when  Sibyll  entered. 
Nicholas  stared  at  her,  as  he  bowed  with  a  stiff  and 
ungraceful  embarrassment,  which  often  at  first  did  in- 
justice to  his  bold,  clear  intellect,  and  his  perfect  self- 
possession  in  matters  of  trade  or  importance. 

"  The  first  woman  face,"  muttered  Nicholas  to  him- 
self, "  I  ever  saw  that  had  the  sense  of  a  man's.  And 
by  the  rood,  what  a  smile !  " 

"Is  this  thy  friend,  Master  Nevile?"  said  Sibyll, 
with  a  glance  at  the  goldsmith.  "  He  is  welcome. 
But  is  it  fair  and  courteous,  Master  Nelwyn " 

"  Alwyn,  an'  it  please  you,  fair  mistress.  A  humble 
name,  but  good  Saxon — which,  I  take  it,  Nelwyn  is 
not,"  interrupted  Nicholas. 

"  Master  Alwyn,  forgive  me;  but  can  I  forgive  thee 
so  readily  for  thy  espial  of  my  handiwork,  without  li- 
cence or  leave?  " 

"Yours,  comely  mistress!"  exclaimed  Nicholas, 
opening  his  eyes,  and  unheeding  the  gay  rebuke — 
"  why,  this  is  a  master-hand.  My  Lord  Scales — nay, 
the  Earl  of  Worcester  himself,  hath  scarce  a  finer  in 
all  his  amassment." 

"  Well,  I  forgive  thy  fault  for  thy  flattery;  and  I  pray 
thee,  in  my  father's  name,  to  stay  and  sup  with  thy 
friend." 

Nicholas  bowed  low,  and  still  riveted  his  eyes  on  the 
book  with  such  open  admiration,  that  Marmaduke 
thought  it  right  to  excuse  his  abstraction ;  but  there 
was  something  in  that  admiration  which  raised  the 
spirits  of  Sibyll,  which  gave  her  hope  when  hope  was 
well-nigh  gone,  and  she  became  so  vivacious,  so 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  79 

debonnair,  so  charming,  in  the  flow  of  a  gaiety  natural 
to  her,  and  very  uncommon  with  English  maidens,  but 
which  she  took  partly,  perhaps,  from  her  French  blood, 
and  partly  from  the  example  of  girls  and  maidens  of 
French  extraction  in  Margaret's  court,  that  Nicholas 
Alwyn  thought  he  had  never  seen  any  one  so  irre- 
sistible. Madge  having  now  served  the  evening  meal, 
put  in  her  head  to  announce  it,  and  Sibyll  withdrew  to 
summon  her  father. 

"  I  trust  he  will  not  tarry  too  long,  for  I  am  sharp 
set,"  muttered  Marmaduke.  "  What  thinkest  thou 
of  the  damozel?  " 

"  Marry,"  answered  Alwyn,  thoughtfully,  "  I  pity 
and  marvel  at  her.  There  is  eno'  in  her  to  furnish 
forth  twenty  court  beauties.  But  what  good  can  so 
much  wit  and  cunning  do  to  an  honest  maiden?  " 

"  That  is  exactly  my  own  thought,"  said  Marma- 
duke; and  both  the  young  men  sunk  into  silence,  till 
Sibyll  re-entered  with  her  father. 

To  the  surprise  of  Marmaduke,  Nicholas  Alwyn, 
whose  less  gallant  manner  he  was  inclined  to  ridicule, 
soon  contrived  to  rouse  their  host  from  his  lethargy, 
and  to  absorb  all  the  notice  of  Sibyll ;  and  the  surprise 
was  increased,  when  he  saw  that  his  friend  appeared 
not  unfamiliar  with  those  abstruse  and  mystical  sci- 
ences in  which  Adam  was  engaged. 

"What!"  said  Adam.  "You  know,  then,  my  deft 
and  worthy  friend,  Master  Caxton!  He  hath  seen 
notable  things  abroad " 

"  Which,  he  more  than  hints,"  said  Nicholas,  "  will 
lower  the  value  of  those  manuscripts  this  fair  damozel 
has  so  couthly  enriched:  and  that  he  hopes,  ere  long, 
to  show  the  Englishers  how  to  make  fifty,  a  hundred, 
— nay,  even  five  hundred  exemplars  of  the  choicest 


8o  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

book,  in  a  much  shorter  time  than  a  scribe  would  take 
in  writing  out  two  or  three  score  pages  in  a  single 
copy." 

"  Verily,"  said  Marmaduke,  with  a  smile  of  compas- 
sion, "the  poor  man  must  be  somewhat  demented; 
for  I  opine  that  the  value  of  such  curiosities  must  be  in 
their  rarity — and  who  would  care  for  a  book,  if  five 
hundred  others  had  precisely  the  same? — allowing  al- 
ways, good  Nicholas,  for  thy  friend's  vaunting  and 
over-crowing.  Five  hundred!  By'r  lady,  there  would 
be  scarcely  five  hundred  fools  in  merry  England  to 
waste  good  nobles  on  spoilt  rags,  specially  while  bows 
and  mail  are  so  dear." 

"  Young  gentleman,"  said  Adam,  rebukingly,  "  me- 
seemeth  that  thou  wrongest  our  age  and  country,  to 
the  which,  if  we  have  but  peace  and  freedom,  I  trust 
the  birth  of  great  discoveries  is  ordained.  Certes,  Mas- 
ter Alwyn,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  goldsmith,  "  this 
achievement  may  be  readily  performed,  and  hath  ex- 
isted, I  heard  an  ingenious  Fleming  say,  years  ago, 
for  many  ages  amongst  a  strange  people  *  known  to 
the  Venetians!  But  dost  thou  think  there  is  much 
appetite  among  those  who  govern  the  state  to  lend 
encouragement  to  such  matters?  " 

"  My  master  serves  my  Lord  Hastings,  the  King's 
chamberlain,  and  my  lord  has  often  been  pleased  to 
converse  with  me,  so  that  I  venture  to  say,  from  my 
knowledge  of  his  affection  to  all  excellent  craft  and 
lere,  that  whatever  will  tend  to  make  men  wiser  will 
have  his  countenance  and  favour  with  the  king." 

"That  is  it — that  is  it!"  exclaimed  Adam,  rubbing 
his  hands.  "  My  invention  shall  not  die!  " 

"And  that  invention " 

*  Query,  the  Chinese? 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  8l 

"  Is  one  that  will  multiply  exemplars  of  books  with- 
out hands;  works  of  craft  without  'prentice  or  journey- 
man; will  move  waggons  and  litters  without  horses; 
will  direct  ships  without  sails;  will — but,  alack!  it  is 
not  yet  complete,  and,  for  want  of  means,  it  never  may 
be." 

Sibyll  still  kept  her  animated  countenance  fixed  on 
Alwyn,  whose  intelligence  she  had  already  detected, 
and  was  charmed  with  the  profound  attention  with 
which  he  listened.  But  her  eye  glancing  from  his 
sharp  features  to  the  handsome,  honest  face  of  the  Ne- 
vile,  the  contrast  was  so  forcible,  that  she  could  not 
restrain  her  laughter,  though,  the  moment  after,  a 
keen  pang  shot  through  her  heart.  The  worthy  Mar- 
maduke  had  been  in  the  act  of  conveying  his  cup  to  his 
lips — the  cup  stood  arrested  midway,  his  jaws  dropped, 
his  eyes  opened  to  their  widest  extent,  an  expression 
of  the  most  evident  consternation  and  dismay  spoke 
in  every  feature,  and,  when  he  heard  the  merry  laugh 
of  Sibyll,  he  pushed  his  stool  from  her  as  far  as  he  well 
could,  and  surveyed  her  with  a  look  of  mingled  fear 
and  pity. 

"Alas!  thou  art  sure  my  poor  father  is  a  wizard 
now?  " 

"Pardie!"  answered  the  Nevile.  "Hath  he  not 
said  so?  Hath  he  not  spoken  of  waggons  without 
horses — ships  without  sails?  And  is  not  all  this  what 
every  dissour  and  jongleur  tells  us  of  in  his  stories  of 
Merlin?  Gentle  maiden,"  he  added  earnestly,  draw- 
ing nearer  to  her,  and  whispering  in  a  voice  of  much 
simple  pathos — "  thou  art  young,  and  I  owe  thee 
much.  Take  care  of  thyself.  Such  wonders  and 
derring-do  are  too  solemn  for  laughter." 

"  Ah ! "  answered  Sibyll,  rising,  "  I  fear  they  are. 
VOL.  I.— 6 


82  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

How  can  I  expect  the  people  to  be  wiser  than  thou, 
or  their  hard  natures  kinder  in  their  judgment  than 
thy  kind  heart?"  Her  low  and  melancholy  voice  went 
to  the  heart  thus  appealed  to.  Marmaduke  also  rose, 
and  followed  her  into  the  parlour,  or  withdrawing- 
closet,  while  Adam  and  the  goldsmith  continued  to 
converse  (though  Alwyn's  eye  followed  the  young 
hostess),  the  former  appearing  perfectly  unconscious 
of  the  secession  of  his  other  listeners.  But  Alwyn's 
attention  occasionally  wandered,  and  he  soon  con- 
trived to  draw  his  host  into  the  parlour. 

When  Nicholas  rose,  at  last,  to  depart,  he  beckoned 
Sibyll  aside;  "  Fair  mistress,"  said  he,  with  some  awk- 
ward hesitation,  "  forgive  a  plain,  blunt  tongue;  but  ye 
of  the  better  birth  are  not  always  above  aid,  even  from 
such  as  I  am.  If  you  would  sell  these  blazoned  man- 
uscripts, I  can  not  only  obtain  you  a  noble  purchaser, 
in  my  Lord  Scales,  or  in  my  Lord  Hastings,  an  equal- 
ly ripe  scholar,  but  it  may  be  the  means  of  my  procur- 
ing a  suitable  patron  for  your  father,  and,  in  these 
times,  the  scholar  must  creep  under  the  knight's  man- 
teline." 

"  Master  Alwyn,"  said  Sibyll,  suppressing  her  tears, 
"  it  was  for  my  father's  sake  that  these  labours  were 
wrought.  We  are  poor  and  friendless.  Take  the 
manuscripts,  and  sell  them  as  thou  wilt,  and  God  and 
St.  Mary  requite  thee!  " 

"  Your  father  is  a  great  man,"  said  Alwyn,  after  a 
pause. 

"  But  were  he  to  walk  the  streets,  they  would  stone 
him,"  replied  Sibyll,  with  a  quiet  bitterness. 

Here  the  Nevile,  carefully  shunning  the  magician, 
who,  in  the  nervous  excitement  produced  by  the  con- 
versation of  a  mind  less  uncongenial  than  he  had  en- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  83 

countered  for  many  years,  seemed  about  to  address 
him — here,  I  say,  the  Nevile  chimed  in — "  Hast  thou 
no  weapon  but  thy  bludgeon?  Dear  foster-brother,  I 
fear  for  thy  safety." 

"  Nay,  robbers  rarely  attack  us  mechanical  folk;  and 
I  know  my  way  better  than  thou.  I  shall  find  a  boat 
near  York  House,  so  pleasant  night  and  quick  cure  to 
thee,  honoured  foster-brother.  I  will  send  the  tailor 
and  other  craftsmen  to-morrow." 

"  And  at  the  same  time,"  whispered  Marmaduke,  ac- 
companying his  friend  to  the  door,  "  send  me  a  brev- 
iary, just  to  patter  an  ave  or  so.  This  grey-haired 
carle  puts  my  heart  in  a  tremble.  Moreover,  buy  me 
a  gittern — a  brave  one — for  the  damozel.  She  is  too 
proud  to  take  money,  and,  'fore  heaven,  I  have  small 
doubts  the  old  wizard  could  turn  my  hose  into  nobles 
an'  he  had  a  mind  for  such  gear.  Waggons  without 
horses — ships  without  sails,  quotha!  " 

As  soon  as  Alwyn  had  departed,  Madge  appeared 
with  the  final  refreshment,  called  "  the  Wines,"  con- 
sisting of  spiced  hippocras  and  confections,  of  the 
former  of  which  the  Nevile  partook  in  solemn  silence. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THERE   IS    A    ROD    FOR   THE    BACK   OF   EVERY    FOOL    WHO 
WOULD   BE    WISER   THAN    HIS    GENERATION 

The  next  morning,  when  Marmaduke  descended  to 
the  hall,  Madge,  accosting  him  on  the  threshold,  in- 
formed him  that  Mistress  Sibyll  was  unwell,  and  kept 
her  chamber,  and  that  Master  Warner  was  never  visi- 
ble much  before  noon.  He  was,  therefore,  prayed  to 
take  his  meal  alone.  "  Alone  "  was  a  word  peculiarly 


84  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

unwelcome  to  Marmaduke  Nevile,  who  was  an  animal 
thoroughly  social  and  gregarious.  He  managed, 
therefore,  to  detain  the  old  servant,  who,  besides  the 
liking  a  skilful  leech  naturally  takes  to  a  thriving  pa- 
"  tient,  had  enough  of  her  sex  about  her  to  be  pleased 
,  with  a  comely  face  and  a  frank,  good-humoured  voice. 
Moreover,  Marmaduke,  wishing  to  satisfy  his  curios- 
ity, turned  the  conversation  upon  Warner  and  Sibyll, 
a  theme  upon  which  the  old  woman  was  well  disposed 
to  be  garrulous.  He  soon  learned  the  poverty  of  the 
mansion  and  the  sacrifice  of  the  gittern;  and  his  gen- 
erosity and  compassion  were  busily  engaged  in  devis- 
ing some  means  to  requite  the  hospitality  he  had  re- 
ceived, without  wounding  the  pride  of  his  host,  when 
the  arrival  of  his  mails,  together  with  the  visits  of  the 
tailor  and  mercer,  sent  to  him  by  Alwyn,  diverted  his 
thoughts  into  a  new  channel. 

Between  the  comparative  merits  of  gowns  and  sur- 
coats,  broad-toed  shoes  and  pointed,  some  time  was 
disposed  of  with  much  cheerfulness  and  edification; 
but  when  his  visitors  had  retired,  the  benevolent  mind 
of  the  young  guest  again  recurred  to  the  penury  of  his 
host.  Placing  his  marks  before  him  on  the  table  in 
the  little  withdrawing  parlour,  he  began  counting  them 
over,  and  putting  aside  the  sum  he  meditated  devoting 
to  Warner's  relief.  "  But  how,"  he  muttered,  "  how 
to  get  him  to  take  the  gold.  I  know,  by  myself,  what 
"  a  gentleman  and  a  knight's  son  must  feel  at  the  proffer 
of  alms — pardie!  I  would  as  lief  Alwyn  had  struck 
me  as  offered  me  his  gipsire — the  ill-mannered,  affec- 
tionate fellow!  I  must  think — I  must  think " 

And  while  still  thinking,  the  door  softly  opened, 
and  Warner  himself,  in  a  high  state  of  abstraction  and 
reverie,  stalked  noiselessly  into  the  room,  on  his  way 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  85 

to  the  garden,  in  which,  when  musing  over  some  new 
spring  for  his  invention,  he  was  wont  to  peripatise. 
The  sight  of  the  gold  on  the  table  struck  full  on  the 
philosopher's  eyes,  and  waked  him  at  once  from  his 
reverie.  That  gold — oh  what  precious  instruments, 
what  learned  manuscripts  it  could  purchase!  That 
gold,  it  was  the  breath  of  life  to  his  model !  He  walked 
deliberately  up  to  the  table,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  one 
of  the  little  heaps.  Marmaduke  drew  back  his  stool, 
and  stared  at  him  with  open  mouth. 

"  Young  man,  what  wantest  thou  with  all  this 
gold?"  said  Adam,  in  a  petulant,  reproachful  tone. 
"  Put  it  up — put  it  up!  Never  let  the  poor  see  gold; 
it  tempts  them,  sir — it  tempts  them."  And  so  saying, 
the  student  abruptly  turned  away  his  eyes,  and  moved 
towards  the  garden. 

Marmaduke  rose  and  put  himself  in  Adam's  way — 

"  Honoured  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  "  you  say 
justly — what  want  I  with  all  this  gold?  The  only  gold 
a  young  man  should  covet  is  eno'  to  suffice  for  the 
knight's  spurs  to  his  heels.  lft  without  offence,  you 
would — that  is — ehem! — I  mean,  gramercy!  I  shall 
never  say  it,  but  I  believe  my  father  owed  your 
father  four  marks,  and  he  bade  me  repay  them.  Here, 
sir!"  He  held  out  the  glittering  coins — the  philoso- 
pher's hand  closed  on  them  as  the  fish's  maw  closes  on 
the  bait.  Adam  burst  into  a  laugh,  that  sounded 
strangely  weird  and  unearthly  upon  Marmaduke's 
startled  ear. 

"  All  this  for  me!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  For  me!  No, 
no!  not  for  me,  for  IT — I  take  it — I  take  it,  sir!  I 
will  pay  it  back  with  large  usury.  Come  to  me  this 
day  year,  when  this  world  will  be  a  new  world,  and 
Adam  Warner  will  be — ha!  ha!  Kind  Heaven,  I 


86  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

thank  thee ! "  Suddenly  turning  away,  the  philoso- 
pher strode  through  the  hall,  opened  the  front  door, 
and  escaped  into  the  street. 

"  By'r  Lady !  "  said  Marmaduke,  slowly  recovering 
his  surprise.  "  I  need  not  have  been  so  much  at  a 
loss;  the  old  gentleman  takes  to  my  gold  as  kindly  as 
if  it  were  mother's  milk.  'Fore  heaven,  mine  host's 
laugh  is  a  ghastly  thing!  "  So  soliloquising,  he  pru- 
dently put  up  the  rest  of  his  money,  and  locked  his 
mails. 

As  time  went  on,  the  young  man  became  exceeding- 
ly weary  of  his  own  company.  Sibyll  still  withheld 
her  appearance:  the  gloom  of  the  old  hall,  the  unculti- 
vated sadness  of  the  lonely  garden,  preyed  upon  his 
spirits.  At  length,  impatient  to  get  a  view  of  the 
world  without,  he  mounted  a  high  stool  in  the  hall, 
and  so  contrived  to  enjoy  the  prospect,  which  the  un- 
glazed  wicker  lattice,  deep  set  in  the  wall,  afforded. 
But  the  scene  without  was  little  more  animated  than 
that  within — all  was  so  deserted  in  the  neighbourhood! 
— the  shops  mean  and  scattered — the  thoroughfare  al- 
most desolate.  At  last  he  heard  a  shout,  or  rather 
hoot,  at  a  distance;  and,  turning  his  attention  whence 
it  proceeded,  he  beheld  a  figure  emerge  from  an  alley 
opposite  the  casement,  with  a  sack  under  one  arm,  and 
several  books  heaped  under  the  other.  At  his  heels 
followed  a  train  of  ragged  boys,  shouting  and  halloo- 
ing, "The  wizard!  the  wizard! — Ah! — Bah! — The  old 
devil's-kin ! "  At  this  cry  the  dull  neighbourhood 
seemed  suddenly  to  burst  forth  into  life.  From  the 
casements  and  thresholds  of  every  house  curious  faces 
emerged,  and  many  voices  of  men  and  women  joined, 
in  deeper  bass,  with  the  shrill  tenor  of  the  choral 
urchins,  "  The  wizard!  the  wizard! — out  at  daylight!  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  87 

The  person  thus  stigmatised,  as  he  approached  the 
house,  turned  his  face,  with  an  expression  of  wistful 
perplexity,  from  side  to  side.  His  lips  moved  convul- 
sively, and  his  face  was  very  pale,  but  he  spoke  not. 
And  now,  the  children  seeing  him  near  his  refuge,  be- 
came more  outrageous.  They  placed  themselves  men- 
acingly before  him — they  pulled  his  robe — they  even 
struck  at  him — and  one,  bolder  than  the  rest,  jumped 
up,  and  plucked  his  beard.  At  this  last  insult,  Adam 
Warner,  for  it  was  he,  broke  silence;  but  such  was  the 
sweetness  of  his  disposition,  that  it  was  rather  with 
pity  than  reproof  in  his  voice,  that  he  said — , 

"  Fie,  little  one! — I  fear  me  thine  own  age  will  have 
small  honour  if  thou  thus  mockest  mature  years  in 
me." 

This  gentleness  only  served  to  increase  the  audacity 
of  his  persecutors,  who  now,  momentarily  augment- 
ing, presented  a  formidable  obstacle  to  his  further  prog- 
ress. Perceiving  that  he  could  not  advance,  without 
offensive  measures  on  his  own  part,  the  poor  scholar 
halted;  and  looking  at  the  crowd  with  mild  dignity,  he 
asked,  "  What  means  this,  my  children?  How  have 
I  injured  you?  " 

"  The  wizard — the  wizard !  "  was  the  only  answer 
he  received. 

Adam  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  strode  on  with 
so  sudden  a  step,  that  one  of  the  smaller  children,  a 
curly-headed  laughing  rogue,  of  about  eight  years  old, 
was  thrown  down  at  his  feet,  and  the  rest  gave  way. 
But  the  poor  man,  seeing  one  of  his  foes  thus  fallen, 
instead  of  pursuing  his  victory,  again  paused,  and  for- 
getful of  the  precious  burdens  he  carried,  let  drop  the 
sack  and  books,  and  took  up  the  child  in  his  arms. 
On  seeing  their  companion  in  the  embrace  of  the  wiz- 


88  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

ard,  a  simultaneous  cry  of  horror  broke  from  the  as- 
semblage.— "He  is  going  to  curse  poor  Tim!" 

"My  child! — my  boy!"  shrieked  a  woman,  from 
one  of  the  casements — "  let  go  my  child!  " 

On  his  part,  the  boy  kicked  and  shrieked  lustily,  as 
Adam,  bending  his  noble  face  tenderly  over  him,  said, 
"  Thou  art  not  hurt,  child.  Poor  boy !  thinkest  thou 
I  would  harm  thee?  "  While  he  spoke  a  storm  of  mis- 
siles— mud,  dirt,  sticks,  bricks,  stones, — from  the  ene- 
my, that  had  now  fallen  back  in  the  rear,  burst  upon 
him.  A  stone  struck  him  on  the  shoulder.  Then  his 
face  changed — an  angry  gleam  shot  from  his  deep, 
calm  eyes — he  put  down  the  child — and,  turning  stead- 
ily to  the  grown  people  at  the  windows,  said,  "  Ye  train 
your  children  ill " — picked  up  his  sack  and  books — 
sighed,  as  he  saw  the  latter  stained  by  the  mire,  which 
he  wiped  with  his  long  sleeve,  and  too  proud  to  show 
fear,  slowly  made  for  his  door.  Fortunately  Sibyll  had 
heard  the  clamour,  and  was  ready  to  admit  her  father, 
and  close  her  door  upon  the  rush  which  instantane- 
ously followed  his  escape.  The  baffled  rout  set  up  a 
yell  of  wrath,  and  the  boys  were  now  joined  by  several 
foes  more  formidable  from  the  adjacent  houses:  as- 
sured in  their  own  minds  that  some  terrible  execration 
had  been  pronounced  upon  the  limbs  and  body  of 
Master  Tim,  who  still  continued  bellowing  and  howl- 
ing, probably  from  the  excitement  of  finding  himself 
raised  to  the  dignity  of  a  martyr, — the  pious  neigh- 
bours poured  forth,  with  oaths,  and  curses,  and  such 
weapons  as  they  could  seize  in  haste,  to  storm  the  wiz- 
ard's fortress. 

From  his  casement  Marmaduke  Nevile  had  espied 
all  that  had  hitherto  passed,  and  though  indignant  at 
the  brutality  of  the  persecutors,  he  had  thought  it  by 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  89 

no  means  unnatural.  "  If  men,  gentlemen  born,  will 
read  uncanny  books,  and  resolve  to  be  wizards,  why 
they  must  reap  what  they  sow,"  was  the  logical  reflec- 
tion that  passed  through  the  mind  of  that  ingenuous 
youth;  but  when  he  now  perceived  the  arrival  of  more 
important  allies — when  stones  began  to  fly  through 
the  wicker  lattices — when  threats  of  setting  fire  to  the 
house  and  burning  the  sorcerer,  who  muttered  spells 
over  innocent  little  boys,  were  heard,  seriously  increas- 
ing in  depth  and  loudness — Marmaduke  felt  his  chiv- 
alry called  forth,  and,  with  some  difficulty,  opening  the 
rusty  wicket  in  the  casement,  he  exclaimed,  "  Shame 
on  you,  my  countrymen,  for  thus  disturbing,  in  broad 
day,  a  peaceful  habitation!  Ye  call  mine  host  a  wiz- 
ard. Thus  much  say  I  on  his  behalf:  I  was  robbed 
and  wounded  a  few  nights  since  in  your  neighbour- 
hood, and  in  this  house  alone  I  found  shelter  and  heal- 
ing." 

The  unexpected  sight  of  the  fair  young  face  of  Mar- 
maduke Nevile,  and  the  healthful  sound  of  his  clear 
ringing  voice,  produced  a  momentary  effect  on  the  be- 
siegers, when  one  of  them,  a  sturdy  baker,  cried  out, 
"  Heed  him  not — he  is  a  goblin !  Those  devil-mon- 
gers can  bake  ye  a  dozen  such  every  moment,  as  deftly 
as  I  can  draw  loaves  from  the  oven!  " 

This  speech  turned  the  tide,  and  at  that  instant  a 
savage-looking  man,  the  father  of  the  aggrieved  boy, 
followed  by  his  wife,  gesticulating  and  weeping,  ran 
from  his  house,  waving  a  torch  in  his  right  hand,  his 
arm  bare  to  the  shoulder,  and  the  cry  of  "  Fire  the 
door! "  was  universal. 

•In  fact,  the  danger  now  grew  imminent:  several  of 
the  party  were  already  piling  straw  and  fagots  against 
the  threshold,  and  Marmaduke  began  to  think  the  only 


90  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

chance  of  life  to  his  host  and  Sibyll  was  in  flight  by 
some  back  way,  when  he  beheld  a  man,  clad  somewhat 
in  the  fashion  of  a  country  yeoman,  a  formidable  knot- 
ted club  in  his  hand,  pushing  his  way,  with  Herculean 
shoulders,  through  the  crowd,  and  stationing  himself 
before  the  threshold  and  brandishing  aloft  his  formi- 
dable weapon,  he  exclaimed,  "What!  In  the  devil's 
name,  do  you  mean  to  get  yourselves  all  hanged  for 
riot?  Do  you  think  King  Edward  is  as  soft  a  man 
as  King  Henry  was,  and  that  he  will  suffer  any  one  but 
himself  to  set  fire  to  people's  houses  in  this  way?  I 
dare  say  you  are  all  right  enough  on  the  main,  but  by 
the  blood  of  St.  Thomas,  I  will  brain  the  first  man  who 
advances  a  step, — by  way  of  preserving  the  necks  of 
the  rest!" 

"A  Robin!  a  Robin!"  cried  several  of  the  mob. 
"  It  is  our  good  friend  Robin.  Hearken  to  Robin. 
He  is  always  right!  " 

"Ay.  that  I  am!  "  quoth  the  defender;  "you  know 
vhat  well  enough.  If  I  had  my  way,  the  world  should 
be  turned  upside  down,  but  what  the  poor  folk  should 
get  nearer  to  the  sun!  But  what  I  say  is  this,  never 
go  against  law,  while  the  law  is  too  strong.  And  it 
were  a  sad  thing  to  see  fifty  fine  fellows  trussed  up  for 
burning  an  old  wizard.  So,  be  off  with  you,  and  let 
us,  at  least  all  that  can  afford  it,  make  for  Master  San- 
croft's  hostelrie,  and  talk  soberly  over  our  ale.  For 
little,  I  trow,  will  ye  work  now  your  blood's  up." 

This  address  was  received  with  a  shout  of  approba- 
tion. The  father  of  the  injured  child  set  his  broad  foot 
on  his  torch,  the  baker  chucked  up  his  white  cap,  the 
ragged  boys  yelled  out,  "  A  Robin !  a  Robin !  "  and 
in  less  than  two  minutes  the  place  was  as  empty  as  it 
had  been  before  the  appearance  of  the  scholar.  Mar- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  91 

maduke,  who,  though  so  ignorant  of  books,  was  acute 
and  penetrating  in  all  matters  of  action,  could  not  help 
admiring  the  address  and  dexterity  of  the  club-bearer: 
and  the  danger  being  now  over,  withdrew  from  the 
casement,  in  search  of  the  inmates  of  the  house.  As- 
cending the  stairs,  he  found  on  the  landing-place,  near 
his  room,  and  by  the  embrasure  of  a  huge  casement 
which  jutted  from  the  wall,  Adam  and  his  daughter. 
Adam  was  leaning  against  the  wall,  with  his  arms 
folded,  and  Sibyll,  hanging  upon  him,  was  uttering 
the  softest  and  most  soothing  words  of  comfort  her 
tenderness  could  suggest. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  old  man,  shaking  his  head 
sadly,  "  I  shall  never  again  have  heart  for  these  studies 
— never.  A  king's  anger  I  could  brave,  a  priest's 
malice  I  could  pity — but  to  find  the  very  children,  the 
young  race,  for  whose  sake  I  have  made  thee  and 

myself  paupers,  to  find  them  thus — thus "  He 

stopped,  for  his  voice  failed  him,  and  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  cheeks. 

"  Come  and  speak  comfort'  to  my  father,  Master 
Nevile!"  exclaimed  Sibyll,  "come  and  tell  him  that 
whoever  is  above  the  herd,  whether  knight  or  scholar, 
must  learn  to  despise  the  hootings  that  follow  Merit. 
Father,  father,  they  threw  mud  and  stones  at  thy  king 
as  he  passed  through  the  streets  of  London.  Thou  art 
not  the  only  one  whom  this  base  world  misjudges." 

"Worthy  mine  host!"  said  Marmaduke,  thus  ap- 
pealed to :  "  Algates,  it  were  not  speaking  truth  to  tell 
thee  that  I  think  a  gentleman  of  birth  and  quality 
should  walk  the  thoroughfares  with  a  bundle  of  books 
under  his  arm,  yet  as  for  the  raptril  vulgar,  the  hild- 
ings  and  cullions  who  hiss  one  day  what  they  applaud 
the  next,  I  hold  it  the  duty  of  every  Christian  and  well- 


92  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

born  man  to  regard  them  as  the  dirt  on  the  crossings. 
Brave  soldiers  term  it  no  disgrace  to  receive  a  blow 
from  a  base  hind.  An'  it  had  been  knights  and  gen- 
tles who  had  insulted  thee,  thou  mightest  have  cause 
for  shame.  But  a  mob  of  lewd  rascallions  and  squall- 
ing infants — bah!  verily,  it  is  mere  matter  for  scorn 
and  laughter." 

These  philosophical  propositions  and  distinctions 
did  not  seem  to  have  their  due  effect  upon  Adam.  He 
smiled,  however,  gently  upon  his  guest,  and  with  a 
blush  over  his  pale  face,  said,  "  I  am  rightly  chastised, 
good  young  man;  mean  was  I,  methinks,  and  sordid 
to  take  from  thee  thy  good  gold.  But  thou  knowest 
not  what  fever  burns  in  the  brain  of  a  man  who  feels 
that,  had  he  wealth,  his  knowledge  could  do  great 
things, — such  things! — I  thought  to  repay  thee  well. 
Now  the  frenzy  is  gone,  and  I,  who  an  hour  agone 
esteemed  myself  a  puissant  sage,  sink  in  mine  own  con- 
ceit to  a  miserable  blinded  fool.  Child,  I  am  very 
weak;  I  will  lay  me  down  and  rest." 

So  saying  the  poor  philosopher  went  his  way  to  his 
chamber,  leaning  on  his  daughter's  arm. 

In  a  few  minutes  Sibyll  rejoined  Marmaduke,  who 
•  had  returned  to  the  hall,  and  informed  him  that  her 
father  had  lain  down  a  while  to  compose  himself. 

"  It  is  a  hard  fate,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  faint 
smile;  "  a  hard  fate,  to  be  banned  and  accursed  by  the 
world,  only  because  one  has  sought  to  be  wiser  than 
the  world  is." 

"  Douce  maiden,"  returned  the  Nevile;  "  it  is  happy 
for  thee  that  thy  sex  forbids  thee  to  follow  thy  father's 
footsteps,  or  I  should  say  his  hard  fate  were  thy  fair 
warning." 

Sibyll  smiled  faintly,  and  after  a  pause,  said,  with 
a  deep  blush: — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  93 

"  You  have  been  generous  to  my  father;  do  not  mis- 
judge him.  He  would  give  his  last  groat  to  a  starving 
beggar.  But  when  his  passion  of  scholar  and  inven- 
tor masters  him — thou  mightest  think  him  worse  than 
miser.  It  is  an  over-noble  yearning  that  ofttimes 
makes  him  mean." 

"  Nay,"  answered  Marmaduke,  touched  by  the  heavy 
sigh  and  swimming  eyes  with  which  the  last  words 
were  spoken ;  "  I  have  heard  Nick  Alwyn's  uncle,  who 
was  a  learned  monk,  declare  that  he  could  not  con- 
strain himself  to  pray  to  be  delivered  from  temptation 
— seeing  that  he  might  thereby  lose  an  occasion  for 
filching  some  notable  book!  For  the  rest,"  he  added, 
"  you  forget  how  much  I  -owe  to  Master  Warner's  hos- 
pitality." 

He  took  her  hand  with  a  frank  and  brotherly  gal- 
lantry as  he  spoke;  but  the  touch  of  that  small,  soft 
hand,  freely  and  innocently  resigned  to  him,  sent  a 
thrill  to  his  heart — and  again  the  face  of  Sibyll  seemed 
to  him  wondrous  fair. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  which  Sibyll  was  the  first 
to  break.  She  turned  the  conversation  once  more 
upon  Marmaduke's  views  in  life.  It  had  been  easy 
for  a  deeper  observer  than  he  was,  to  see  that,  under 
all  that  young  girl's  simplicity  and  sweetness,  there 
lurked  something  of  dangerous  ambition.  She  loved 
to  recall  the  court-life  her  childhood  had  known, 
though  her  youth  had  resigned  it  with  apparent  cheer- 
fulness. Like  many  who  are  poor  and  fallen,  Sibyll 
built  herself  a  sad  consolation  out  of  her  pride;  she 
never  forgot  that  she  was  well-born.  But  Marmaduke, 
in  what  was  ambition,  saw  but  interest  in  himself,  and 
his  heart  beat  more  quickly  as  he  bent  his  eyes  upon 
that  downcast,  thoughtful,  earnest  countenance. 


94  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

After  an  hour  thus  passed,  Sibyll  left  the  guest,  and 
remounted  to  her  father's  chamber.  She  found  Adam 
pacing  the  narrow  floor,  and  muttering  to  himself. 
He  turned  abruptly  as  she  entered,  and  said,  "  Come 
hither,  child — I  took  four  marks  from  that  young  man, 
for  I  wanted  books  and  instruments,  and  there  are  two 
left; — see — take  them  back  to  him." 

"  My  father,  he  will  not  receive  them.  Fear  not, 
thou  shalt  repay  him  some  day." 

"  Take  them,  I  say,  and  if  the  young  man  says  thee 
nay,  why,  buy  thyself  gauds  and  gear,  or  let  us  eat, 
and  drink,  and  laugh.  What  else  is  life  made  for? 
Ha!  ha!  Laugh,  child,  laugh!  " 

There  was  something  strangely  pathetic  in  this  out- 
burst, this  terrible  mirth,  born  of  profound  dejection. 
Alas  for  this  guileless,  simple  creature,  who  had 
clutched  at  gold  with  a  huckster's  eagerness — who, 
forgetting  the  wants  of  his  own  child,  had  employed 
it  upon  the  service  of  an  Abstract  Thought,  and  whom 
the  scorn  of  his  kind  now  pierced  through  all  the 
folds  of  his  close-webbed  philosophy  and  self-forgetful 
genius.  Awful  is  the  duel  between  MAN  and  THE  AGE 
in  which  he  lives!  For  the  gain  of  posterity,  Adam 
Warner  had  martyrised  existence, — and  the  children 
pelted  him  as  he  passed  the  streets!  Sibyll  burst  into 
tears. 

"  No,  my  father,  no,"  she  sobbed,  pushing  back  the 
money  into  his  hands.  "  Let  us  both  starve,  rather 
than  you  should  despond.  God  and  man  will  bring 
you  justice  yet." 

"  Ah!  "  said  the  baffled  enthusiast,  "  my  whole  mind 
is  one  sore  now.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  love  man  no  more. 
Go,  and  leave  me.  Go,  I  say!  "  and  the  poor  student, 
usually  so  mild  and  gall-less,  stamped  his  foot  in  im- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  95 

potent  rage.     Sibyll,  weeping  as  if  her  heart  would 
break,  left  him. 

Then  Adam  Warner  again  paced  to  and  fro  rest- 
lessly, and  again  muttered  to  himself  for  several  min- 
utes. At  last  he  approached  his  Model — the  model  of 
a  mighty  and  stupendous  invention — the  fruit  of  no 
chimerical  and  visionary  science — a  great  Promethean 
THING,  that,  once  matured,  would  divide  the  Old 
World  from  the  New,  enter  into  all  operations  of 
Labour,  animate  all  the  future  affairs,  colour  all  the 
practical  doctrines  of  active  men.  He  paused  before 
it,  and  addressed  it  as  if  it  heard  and  understood  him — 
"  My  hair  was  dark,  and  my  tread  was  firm,  when,  one 
night,  a  THOUGHT  passed  into  my  soul — a  thought  to 
make  Matter  the  gigantic  slave  of  Mind.  Out  of  this 
thought,  thou,  not  yet  born  after  five-and-twenty  years 
of  travail,  wert  conceived.  My  coffers  were  then  full, 
and  my  name  was  honoured;  and  the  rich  respected, 
and  the  poor  loved,  me.  Art  thou  a  devil,  that  has 
tempted  me  to  ruin,  or  a  god,  that  has  lifted  me  above 
the  earth?  I  am  old  before  my  time,  my  hair  is 
blanched,  my  frame  is  bowed,  my  wealth  is  gone,  my 
name  is  sullied.  And  all,  dumb  idol  of  Iron,  and  the 
Element,  all  for  thee!  I  had  a  wife  whom  I  adored — 
she  died — I  forgot  her  loss  in  the  hope  of  thy  life.  I 
have  a  child  still — God  and  our  Lady  forgive  me — she 
1  is  less  dear  to  me  than  thou  hast  been.  And  now  " — 
the  old  man  ceased  abruptly,  and  folding  his  arms, 
looked  at  the  deaf  iron  sternly,  as  on  a  human  foe. 
By  his  side  was  a  huge  hammer,  employed  in  the  toils 
of  his  forge;  suddenly  he  seized  and  swung  it  aloft. 
One  blow,  and  the  labour  of  years  was  shattered  into 
pieces!  One  blow! — But  the  heart  failed  him,  and  the 
hammer  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 


96  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Ay!  "  he  muttered,  "  true — true!  if  thou,  who  hast 
destroyed  all  else,  wert  destroyed  too,  what  were  left 
me?  Is  it  a  crime  to  murder  Man? — a  greater  crime 
to  murder  Thought,  which  is  the  life  of  all  men.  Come 
' — I  forgive  thee!" 

And  all  that  day  and  all  that  night  the  Enthusiast 
laboured  in  his  chamber,  and  the  next  day  the  remem- 
brance of  the  hootings,  the  pelting,  the  mob,  was  gone 
— clean  gone  from  his  breast.  The  Model  began  to 
move — life  hovered  over  its  wheels;  and  the  Martyr 
of  Science  had  forgotten  the  very  world  for  which  he, 
groaning  and  rejoicing,  toiled! 


CHAPTER   VIII 

MASTER     MARMADUKE     NEVILE     MAKES     LOVE    AND     IS 
FRIGHTENED 

For  two  or  three  days,  Marmaduke  and  Sibyll  were 
necessarily  brought  much  together.  Such  familiarity 
of  intercourse  was  peculiarly  rare  in  that  time,  when, 
except  perhaps  in  the  dissolute  court  of  Edward  IV., 
the  virgins  of  gentle  birth  mixed  sparingly,  and  with 
great  reserve,  amongst  those  of  opposite  sex.  Mar- 
maduke, rapidly  recovering  from  the  effect  of  his 
wounds,  and  without  other  resource  than  Sibyll's  so- 
ciety, in  the  solitude  of  his  confinement,  was  not  proof 
against  the  temptation  which  one  so  young  and  so 
sweetly  winning  brought  to  his  fancy  or  his  senses. 
The  poor  Sibyll — she  was  no  faultless  paragon — she 
was  a  rare  and  singular  mixture  of  many  opposite 
qualities  in  heart  and  in  intellect!  She  was  one  mo- 
ment infantine  in  simplicity  and  gay  playfulness — the 
next,  a  shade  passed  over  her  bright  face,  and  she  ut- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  97 

tered  some  sentence  of  that  bitter  and  chilling  wisdom, 
which  the  sense  of  persecution,  the  cruelty  of  the  world, 
had  already  taught  her.  She  was,  indeed,  at  that  age 
when  the  Child  and  the  Woman  are  struggling  against 
each  other.  Her  character  was  not  yet  formed — a 
little  happiness  would  have  ripened  it  at  once  into  the 
richest  bloom  of  goodness.  But  sorrow,  that  ever 
sharpens  the  intellect,  might  only  serve  to  sour  the 
heart.  Her  mind  was  so  innately  chaste  and  pure,  that 
she  knew  not  the  nature  of  the  admiration  she  excited. 
But  the  admiration  pleased  her  as  it  pleases  some 
young  child — she  was  vain  then,  but  it  was  an  infant's 
vanity,  not  a  woman's.  And  thus,  from  innocence  it- 
self, there  was  a  fearlessness,  a  freedom,  a  something 
endearing  and  familiar  in  her  manner,  which  might 
have  turned  a  wiser  head  than  Marmaduke  Nevile's. 
And  this  the  more,  because,  while  liking  her  young 
guest,  confiding  in  him,  raised  in  her  own  esteem  .by 
his  gallantry,  enjoying  that  intercourse  of  youth  with 
youth,  so  unfamiliar  to  her,  and  surrendering  herself 
the  more  to  its  charm  from  the  joy  that  animated  her 
spirits,  in  seeing  that  her  father  had  forgotten  his  hu- 
miliation, and  returned  to  his  wonted  labours — she  yet 
knew  not  for  the  handsome  Nevile  one  sentiment  that 
approached  to  love.  Her  mind  was  so  superior  to  his 
own,  that  she  felt  almost  as  if  older  in  years,  and  in 
their  talk,  her  rosy  lips  preached  to  him  in  grave 
advice. 

On  the  landing,  by  Marmaduke's  chamber,  there 
was  a  large  oriel  casement  jutting  from  the  wall.  It 
was  only  glazed  at  the  upper  part,  and  that  most  im- 
perfectly, the  lower  part  being  closed  at  night,  or  in 
inclement  weather,  with  rude  shutters.  The  recess 
formed  by  this  comfortless  casement  answered.,  there- 
VOL.  I.— 7 


93  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

fore,  the  purpose  of  a  balcony;  it  commanded  a  full 
view  of  the  vicinity  without,  and  gave  to  those  who 
might  be  passing  by,  the  power  also  of  indulging  their 
own  curiosity  by  a  view  of  the  interior. 

Whenever  he  lost  sight  of  Sibyll,  and  had  grown 
weary  of  the  peacock,  this  spot  was  Marmaduke's 
favourite  haunt.  It  diverted  him,  poor  youth,  to  look 
out  of  the  window  upon  the  livelier  world  beyond. 
The  place,  it  is  true,  was  ordinarily  deserted,  but  still 
the  spires  and  turrets  of  London  were  always  discerni- 
ble— and  they  were  something. 

Accordingly,  in  this  embrasure  stood  Marmaduke, 
when  one  morning,  Sibyll,  coming  from  her  father's 
room,  joined  him. 

"  And  what,  Master  Nevile,"  said  Sibyll,  with  a  ma- 
licious yet  charming  smile,  "  what  claimed  thy  medi- 
tations? Some  misgiving  as  to  the  trimming  of  thy 
tunic,  or  the  length  of  thy  shoon?" 

"  Nay,"  returned  Marmaduke,  gravely,  "  such 
thoughts,  though  not  without  their  importance  in  the 
mind  of  a  gentleman,  who  would  not  that  his  igno- 
rance of  court  delicacies  should  commit  him  to  the 
japes  of  his  equals,  were  not  at  that  moment  upper- 
most. I  was  thinking " 

"  Of  those  mastiffs,  quarrelling  for  a  bone.  Avow 
it." 

"  By  our  Lady  I  saw  them  not,  but  now  I  look,  they 
are  brave  dogs.  Ha! — seest  thou  how  gallantly  each 
fronts  the  other,  the  hair  bristling,  the  eyes  fixed,  the 
tail  on  end,  the  fangs  glistening.  Now  the  lesser  one 
moves  slowly  round  and  round  the  bigger,  who,  mind 
you,  Mistress  Sibyll,  is  no  dullard,  but  moves,  too, 
quick  as  thought,  not  to  be  taken  unawares.  Ha! 
that  is  a  brave  spring!  Heigh,  dogs,  heigh!  a  good 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  99 

sight — it  makes  the  blood  warm! — the  little  one  hath 
him  by  the  throat! " 

"  Alack,"  said  Sibyll,  turning  away  her  eyes,  "  can 
you  find  pleasure  in  seeing  two  poor  brutes  mangle 
each  other  for  a  bone?  " 

"  By  St.  Dunstan !  doth  it  matter  what  may  be  the 
cause  of  quarrel,  so  long  as  dog  or  man  bears  himself 
bravely,  with  a  due  sense  of  honour  and  derring-do. 
See!  the  big  one  is  up  again.  Ah!  foul  fall  the 
butcher,  who  drives  them  away.  Those  seely  me- 
chanics know  not  the  joyaunce  of  fair  fighting  to  gen- 
tle and  to  hound.  For  a  hound,  mark  you,  hath  noth- 
ing mechanical  in  his  nature.  He  is  a  gentleman  all 
over — brave  against  equal  and  stranger,  forbearing  to 
the  small  and  defenceless,  true  in  poverty  and  need 
where  he  loveth,  stern  and  ruthless  where  he  hateth, 
and  despising  thieves,  hildings,  and  the  vulgar,  as 
much  as  e'er  a  gold  spur  in  King  Edward's  court! 
Oh!  certes,  your  best  gentleman  is  the  best  hound!" 

"  You  moralise  to-day.  And  I  know  not  how  to 
gainsay  you,"  returned  Sibyll,  as  the  dogs,  reluctantly 
beaten  off,  retired  each  from  each,  snarling  and  reluc- 
tant, while  a  small  black  cur,  that  had  hitherto  sat  un- 
observed at  the  door  of  a  small  hostelrie,  now  coolly 
approached  and  dragged  off  the  bone  of  contention. 
"But  what  say'st  thou  now?  See!  see!  the  patient 
mongrel  carries  off  the  bone  from  the  gentlemen- 
hounds.  Is  that  the  way  of  the  world  ?  " 

"Pardie!  it  is  a  naught  world,  if  so,  and  much 
changed  from  the  time  of  our  fathers,  the  Normans. 
But  these  Saxons  are  getting  uppermost  again,  and 
the  yard  measure,  I  fear  me,  is  more  potent  in  these 
holiday  times  than  the  mace  or  the  battle-axe."  The 
Nevile  paused,  sighed,  and  changed  the  subject: 


ioo  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  This  house  of  thine  must  have  been  a  stately  pile 
in  its  day.  I  see  but  one  side  of  the  quadrangle  is  left, 
though  it  be  easy  to  trace  where  the  other  three  have 
stood." 

"  And  you  may  see  their  stones  and  their  fittings  in 
the  butcher's  and  baker's  stalls  over  the  way,"  replied 
Sibyll. 

"Ay!"  said  the  Nevile,  "the  parings  of  the  gentry 
begin  to  be  the  wealth  of  the  varlets." 

"  Little  ought  we  to  pine  at  that,"  returned  Sibyll, 
"if  the  varlets  were  but  gentle  with  our  poverty;  but 
they  loathe  the  humbled  fortunes  on  which  they  rise, 
and  while  slaves  to  the  rich,  are  tyrants  to  the  poor." 

This  was  said  so  sadly,  that  the  Nevile  felt  his  eyes 
overflow;  and  the  humble  dress  of  the  girl,  the  melan- 
choly ridges  which  evinced  the  site  of  a  noble  house, 
now  shrunk  into  a  dismal  ruin,  the  remembrance  of 
the  pastime-ground,  the  insults  of  the  crowd,  and  the 
broken  gittern,  all  conspired  to  move  his  compassion, 
and  to  give  force  to  yet  more  tender  emotions. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  suddenly,  and  with  a  quick  faint 
blush  over  his  handsome  and  manly  countenance — 
"  ah,  fair  maid — fair  Sibyll ! — God  grant  that  I  may 
win  something  of  gold  and  fortune  amidst  yonder 
towers,  on  which  the  sun  shines  so  cheerly.  God 
grant  it,  not  for  my  sake — not  for  mine;  but  that  I  may 
have  something  besides  a  true  heart  and  a  stainless 
name  to  lay  at  thy  feet.  Oh,  Sibyll!  By  this  hand — 
by  my  father's  soul — I  love  thee,  Sibyll!  Have  I  not 
said  it  before?  Well,  hear  me  now — I  love  thee!" 

As  he  spoke,  he  clasped  her  hand  in  his  own,  and 
she  suffered  it  for  one  instant  to  rest  in  his.  Then 
withdrawing  it,  and  meeting  his  enamoured  eyes,  with 
a  strange  sadness  in  her  own  darker,  deeper,  and  more 
intelligent  orbs,  she  said — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  101 

"  I  thank  thee — thank  thee  for  the  honour  of  such 
kind  thoughts;  and  frankly  I  answer,  as  thou  hast 
frankly  spoken.  It  was  sweet  to  me,  who  have  known 
little  in  life  not  hard  and  bitter — sweet  to  wish  I  had 
a  brother  like  thee,  and,  as  a  brother,  I  can  love  and 
pray  for  thee.  But  ask  not  more,  Marmaduke.  I 
have  aims  in  life  which  forbid  all  other  love!  " 

"  Art  thou  too  aspiring  for  one  who  has  his  spurs 
to  win?" 

"Not  so;  but  listen.  My  mother's  lessons  and  my 
own  heart  have  made  my  poor  father  the  first  end  and 
object  of  all  things  on  earth  to  me.  I  live  to  protect 
him,  work  for  him,  honour  him — and  for  the  rest — I 
have  thoughts  thou  canst  not  know — an  ambition  thou 
canst  not  feel.  Nay,"  she  added,  with  that  delightful 
smile  which  chased  away  the  graver  thought  which 
had  before  saddened  her  aspect,  "what  would  thy 
sober  friend  Master  Alwyn  say  to  thee,  if  he  heard  thou 
hadst  courted  the  wizard's  daughter?  " 

"  By  my  faith,"  exclaimed  Marmaduke,  "  thou  art 
a  very  April — smiles  and  clouds  in  a  breath!  If  what 
thou  despisest  in  me  be  my  want  of  bookcraft,  and 
suchlike,  by  my  halidame  I  will  turn  scholar  for  thy 
sake;  and " 

Here,  as  he  had  again  taken  Sibyll's  hand,  with  the 
passionate  ardour  of  his  bold  nature,  not  to  be  lightly 
daunted  by  a  maiden's  first  "  No,"  a  sudden  shrill,  wild 
burst  of  laughter,  accompanied  with  a  gusty  fit  of  un- 
melodious  music  from  the  street  below,  made  both 
maiden  and  youth  start,  and  turn  their  eyes:  there, 
weaving  their  immodest  dance,  tawdry  in  their  tinsel 
attire,  their  naked  arms  glancing  above  their  heads, 
as  they  waved  on  high  their  instruments,  went  the 
timbrel-girls. 


102  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Ha!  ha!  "  cried  their  leader,  "  see  the  gallant  and 
the  witch-leman!  The  glamour  has  done  its  work! 
Foul  is  fair! — foul  is  fair!  and  the  devil  will  have  his 
own!" 

But  these  creatures,  whose  bold  licence  the  ancient 
chronicler  records,  were  rarely  seen  alone.  They 
haunted  parties  of  pomp  and  pleasure;  they  linked  to- 
gether the  extremes  of  life — the  grotesque  Chorus  that 
introduced  the  terrible  truth  of  foul  vice,  and  aban- 
doned wretchedness  in  the  midst  of  the  world's  holi- 
day and  pageant.  So  now,  as  they  wheeled  into  the 
silent,  squalid  street,  they  heralded  a  goodly  company 
of  dames  and  cavaliers,  on  horseback,  who  were  pass- 
ing through  the  neighbouring  plains  into  the  park  of 
Marybone  to  enjoy  the  sport  of  falconry.  The  splen- 
did dresses  of  this  procession,  and  the  grave  and  meas- 
ured dignity  with  which  it  swept  along,  contrasted 
forcibly  with  the  wild  movements  and  disorderly  mirth 
of  the  timbrel  players.  These  last  darted  round  and 
round  the  riders,  holding  out  their  instruments  for 
largess,  and  retorting,  with  laugh  and  gibe,  the  dis- 
dainful look  or  sharp  rebuke  with  which  their  saluta- 
tions were  mostly  received. 

Suddenly,  as  the  company,  two  by  two,  paced  up  the 
street,  Sibyll  uttered  a  faint  exclamation,  and  strove  to 
snatch  her  hand  from  the  Nevile's  grasp.  Her  eye 
rested  upon  one  of  the  horsemen  who  rode  last,  and 
who  seemed  in  earnest  conversation  with  a  dame,  who, 
though  scarcely  in  her  first  youth,  excelled  all  her  fair 
companions  in  beauty  of  face  and  grace  of  horseman- 
ship, as  well  as  in  the  costly  equipments  of  the  white 
barb  that  caracolled  beneath  her  easy  hand.  At  the 
same  moment  the  horseman  looked  up  and  gazed 
steadily  at  Sibyll,  whose  countenance  grew  pale,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  103 

flushed,  in  a  breath.  His  eye  then  glanced  rapidly  at 
Marmaduke — a  half-smile  passed  his  pale,  firm  lips; 
he  slightly  raised  the  plumed  cap  from  his  brow — in- 
clined gravely  to  Sibyll — and,  turning  once  more  to  his 
companion,  appeared  to  answer  some  question  she  ad- 
dressed to  him,  as  to  the  object  of  his  salutation,  for 
her  look,  which  was  proud,  keen,  and  lofty,  was  raised 
to  Sibyll,  and  then  dropped  somewhat  disdainfully, 
as  she  listened  to  the  words  addressed  her  by  the 
cavalier. 

The  lynx  eyes  of  the  tymbestercs  had  seen  the  rec- 
ognition; and  their  leader,  laying  her  bold  hand  on  the 
embossed  bridle  of  the  horseman,  exclaimed,  in  a  voice 
shrill  and  loud  enough  to  be  heard  in  the  balcony 
above,  "  Largess!  noble  lord,  largess!  for  the  sake  of 
the  lady  thou  lovest  best!  " 

The  fair  equestrian  turned  away  her  head  at  these 
words,  the  nobleman  watched  her  a  moment,  and 
dropped  some  coins  into  the  timbrel. 

"  Ha !  ha !  "  cried  the  tymbcstere,  pointing  her  long 
arm  to  Sibyll,  and  springing  towards  the  balcony — 

"  The  cushat  would  mate 

Above  her  state, 
And  she  flutters  her  wings  round  the  falcon's  beak; 

But  death  to  the  dove 

Is  the  falcon's  love — 
Oh,  sharp  is  the  kiss  of  the  falcon's  beak !  " 

Before  this  rude  song  was  ended,  Sibyll  had  van- 
ished from  the  place;  the  cavalcade  had  disappeared. 
The  timbrel-players,  without  deigning  to  notice  Mar- 
maduke, darted  elsewhere  to  ply  their  discordant  trade, 
and  the  Nevile,  crossing  himself  devoutly,  muttered, 
"  Jesu  defend  us !  Those  she  Will-o'-the-wisps  are 
eno'  to  scare  all  the  blood  out  of  one's  body.  What — 


104  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

a  murrain  on  them! — do  they  portend,  flitting  round 
and  round,  and  skirting  off,  as  if  the  devil's  broomstick 
was  behind  them!  By  the  mass!  they  have  frighted 
away  the  damozel,  and  I  am  not  sorry  for  it.  They 
have  left  me  small  heart  for  the  part  of  Sir  Launval." 
His  meditations  were  broken  off  by  the  sudden 
sight  of  Nicholas  Alwyn,  mounted  on  a  small  palfrey, 
and  followed  by  a  sturdy  groom  on  horseback,  leading 
a  steed  handsomely  caparisoned.  In  another  moment, 
Marmaduke  had  descended — opened  the  door — and 
drawn  Alwyn  into  the  hall. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MASTER    MARMADUKE    NEVILE    LEAVES    THE    WIZARD'S 
HOUSE   FOR   THE   GREAT    WORLD 

"  Right  glad  am  I,"  said  Nicholas,  "  to  see  you  so 
stout  and  hearty,  for  I  am  the  bearer  of  good  news. 
Though  I  have  been  away,  I  have  not  forgotten  you; 
and  it  so  chanced  that  I  went  yesterday  to  attend  my 
Lord  of  Warwick  with  some  nowches*  and  knack- 
eries, that  he  takes  out  as  gifts  and  exemplars  of  Eng- 
lish work.  They  were  indifferently  well  wrought,  spe- 
cially a  chevesail,  of  which  the " 

"  Spare  me  the  fashion  of  thy  mechanicals,  and 
come  to  the  point,"  interrupted  Marmaduke,  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Pardon  me,  Master  Nevile.  I  interrupt  thee  not 
when  thou  talkest  of  bassinets  and  hauberks — every 
cobbler  to  his  last.  But,  as  thou  sayest,  to  the  point: 
the  stout  earl,  while  scanning  my  workmanship,  for  in 
much  the  chevesail  was  mine,  was  pleased  to  speak 
*  Nowches — buckles  and  other  ornaments. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  105 

graciously  of  my  skill  with  the  bow,  of  which  he  had 
heard;  and  he  then  turned  to  thyself,  of  whom  my 
Lord  Montagu  had  already  made  disparaging  men- 
tion :  when  I  told  the  earl  somewhat  more  about  thy 
qualities  and  disposings;  and  when  I  spoke  of  thy  de- 
sire to  serve  him,  and  the  letter  of  which  thou  art  the 
bearer,  his  black  brows  smoothed  mighty  graciously, 
and  he  bade  me  tell  thee  to  come  to  him  this  afternoon, 
and  he  would  judge  of  thee  with  his, own  eyes  and  ears. 
Wherefore  I  have  ordered  the  craftsmen  to  have  all 
thy  gauds  and  gear  ready  at  thine  hostelrie,  and  I  have 
engaged  thee  henchmen  and  horses  for  thy  fitting  ap- 
pearance. Be  quick:  time  and  the  great  wait  for  no 
man.  So  take  whatever  thou  needest  for  present  want, 
from  thy  mails,  and  I  will  send  a  porter  for  the  rest 
ere  sunset." 

"  But  the  gittern  for  the  damozel?  " 

"  I  have  provided  that  for  thee,  as  is  meet."  And 
Nicholas,  stepping  back,  eased  the  groom  of  a  case 
which  contained  a  gittern,  whose  workmanship  and 
ornaments  delighted  the  Nevile. 

"  It  is  of  my  lord  the  young  duke  of  Gloucester's 
own  musical-vendor;  and  the  duke,  though  a  lad  yet, 
is  a  notable  judge  of  all  appertaining  to  the  gentle 
craft.*  So  despatch,  and  away!" 

Marmaduke  retired  to  his  chamber,  and  Nicholas, 
after  a  moment  spent  in  silent  thought,  searched  the 
room  for  the  hand-bell,  which  then  made  the  mode  of 
communication  between  the  master  and  domestics. 
Not  finding  this  necessary  luxury,  he  contrived  at  last 
to  make  Madge  hear  his  voice  from  her  subterranean 
retreat;  and,  on  her  arrival,  sent  her  in  quest  of  Sibyll. 

*  For  Richard  III.'s  love  of  rnusic,  and  patronage  of  musi- 
cians and  minstrels,  see  the  discriminating  character  of  that 
prince  in  Sharon  Turner's  "  History  of  England,"  vol.  iv.  p.  66. 


106  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

The  answer  he  received  was,  that  Mistress  Sibyll 
was  ill,  and  unable  to  see  him.  Alwyn  looked  discon- 
certed at  this  intelligence,  but,  drawing  from  his  girdle 
a  small  gipsire,  richly  broidered,  he  prayed  Madge  to 
deliver  it  to  her  young  mistress,  and  inform  her  that  it 
was  the  fruit  of  the  commission  with  which  she  had 
honoured  him. 

"  It  is  passing  strange,"  said  he,  pacing  the  hall 
alone — "  passing  strange,  that  the  poor  child  should 
have  taken  such  hold  on  me.  After  all,  she  would  be 
a  bad  wife  for  a  plain  man  like  me.  Tush!  that  is  the 
trader's  thought  all  over.  Have  I  brought  no  fresher 
feeling  out  of  my  fair  village-green?  Would  it  not  be 
sweet  to  work  for  her,  and  rise  in  life,  with  her  by  my 
side?  And  these  girls  of  the  city — so  prim  and  so 
brainless! — as  well  marry  a  painted  puppet.  Sibyll! 
Am  I  dement?  Stark  wode?  What  have  I  to  do 
with  girls  and  marriage?  Hump!  I  marvel  what 
Marmaduke  still  thinks  of  her — and  she  of  him." 

While  Alwyn  thus  soliloquised,  the  Nevile  having 
hastily  arranged  his  dress,  and  laden  himself  with  the 
moneys  his  mails  contained,  summoned  old  Madge  to 
receive  his  largess,  and  to  conduct  him  to  Warner's 
chamber,  in  order  to  proffer  his  farewell. 

With  somewhat  of  a  timid  step  he  followed  the  old 
woman  (who  kept  muttering  thanks  and  benedicites, 
as  she  eyed  the  coin  in  her  palm)  up  the  rugged  stairs, 
— and  for  the  first  time  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  stu- 
dent's sanctuary.  No  answer  came.  "Eh,  sir!  you 
must  enter,"  said  Madge;  "an'  you  fired  a  bombard 
under  his  ear  he  would  not  heed  you."  So,  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  she  threw  open  the  door,  and 
closed  it  behind  him,  as  Marmaduke  entered. 

The  room  was  filled  with  smoke,  through  which 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  107 

mirky  atmosphere  the  clear  red  light  of  the  burning 
charcoal  peered  out  steadily  like  a  Cyclop's  eye.  A 
small,  but  heaving,  regular,  labouring,  continuous 
sound,  as  of  a  fairy  hammer,  smote  the  young  man's 
ear.  But,  as  his  gaze,  accustoming  itself  to  the  atmos- 
phere, searched  around,  he  could  not  perceive  what 
was  its  cause.  Adam  Warner  was  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  his  arms  folded,  and  contemplat- 
ing something  at  a  little  distance,  which  Marmaduke 
could  not  accurately  distinguish.  The  •  youth  took 
courage,  and  approached.  "  Honoured  mine  host," 
said  he,  "  I  thank  thee  for  hospitality  and  kindness,  I 
crave  pardon  for  disturbing  thee  in  thy  incanta — 
ehem! — thy — thy  studies,  and  I  come  to  bid  thee  fare- 
well." 

Adam  turned  round  with  a  puzzled,  absent  air,  as  if 
scarcely  recognising  his  guest;  at  length,  as  his  recol- 
lection slowly  came  back  to  him,  he  smiled  graciously, 
and  said :  "  Good  youth,  thou  art  richly  welcome  to 
what  little  it  was  in  my  power  to  do  for  thee.  Perad- 
venture,  a  time  may  come  when  they  who  seek  the 
roof  of  Adam  Warner  may  find  less  homely  cheer — a 
less  rugged  habitation — for  look  you !  "  he  exclaimed, 
suddenly,  with  a  burst  of  irrepressible  enthusiasm — and 
laying  his  hand  on  Nevile's  arm,  as,  through  all  the 
smoke  and  grime  that  obscured  his  face,  flashed  the 
ardent  soul  of  the  triumphant  Inventor,  "look  you! 
since  you  have  been  in  this  house,  one  of  my 
great  objects  is  well-nigh  matured — achieved.  Come 
hither,"  and  he  dragged  the  wondering  Marmaduke  to 
his  model,  or  Eureka,  as  Adam  had  fondly  named  his 
contrivance.  The  Nevile  then  perceived  that  it  was 
from  the  interior  of  this  machine  that  the  sound  which 
had  startled  him,  arose;  to  his  eye  the  THING  was  un- 


io8  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

couth  and  hideous;  from  the  jaws  of  an  iron  serpent, 
that,  wreathing  round  it,  rose  on  high  with  erect  crest, 
gushed  a  rapid  volume  of  black  smoke,  and  a  damp 
spray  fell  around.  A  column  of  iron  in  the  centre 
kept  in  perpetual  and  regular  motion,  rising  and  sink- 
ing successively,  as  the  whole  mechanism  within 
seemed  alive  with  noise  and  action. 

"  The  Syracusan  asked  an  inch  of  earth,  beyond  the 
earth,  to  move  the  earth,"  said  Adam ;  "  I  stand  in  the 
world,  and  lo!  with  this  engine  the  world  shall  one 
day  be  moved." 

"Holy  Mother!"  faltered  Marmaduke;  "I  pray 
thee,  dread  sir,  to  ponder  well  ere  thou  attemptest  any 
such  sports  with  the  habitation  in  which  every  woman's 
son  is  so  concerned.  Bethink  thee,  that  if  in  moving 
the  world  thou  shouldst  make  any  mistake,  it 
would " 

"  Now  stand  there  and  attend,"  interrupted  Adam, 
who  had  not  heard  one  word  of  this  judicious  exhorta- 
tion. 

"Pardon  me,  terrible  sir!"  exclaimed  Marmaduke, 
in  great  trepidation,  and  retreating  rapidly  to  the  door; 
"  but  I  have  heard  that  the  fiends  are  mighty  malig- 
nant to  all  lookers-on,  not  initiated." 

While  he  spoke,  fast  gushed  the  smoke,  heavily 
heaved  the  fairy  hammers,  up  and  down,  down  and 
up,  sank  or  rose  the  column,  with  its  sullen  sound. 
The  young  man's  heart  sank  to  the  soles  of  his  feet. 

"  In  deed  and  in  truth,"  he  stammered  out,  "  I  am 
but  a  dolt  in  these  matters;  I  wish  thee  all  success 
compatible  with  the  weal  of  a  Christian,  and  bid  thee, 
in  sad  humility,  good  day :  "  and  he  added,  in  a  whis- 
per— "the  Lord's  forgiveness!  Amen!" 

Marmaduke,  then,  fairly  rushed  through  the  open 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  109 

door,  and  hurried  out  of  the  chamber  as  fast  as 
possible. 

He  breathed  more  freely  as  he  descended  the  stairs. 
"  Before  I  would  call  that  grey  carle  my  father,  or  his 
child  my  wife,  may  I  feel  all  the  hammers  of  the  elves 
and  sprites  he  keeps  tortured  within  that  ugly  little 
prison-house  playing  a  death's  march  on  my  body. 
Holy  St.  Dunstan,  the  timbrel-girls  came  in  time! 
They  say  these  wizards  always  have  fair  daughters, 
and  their  love  can  be  no  blessing! " 

As  he  thus  muttered,  the  door  of  Sibyll's  chamber 
opened,  and  she  stood  before  him  at  the  threshold. 
Her  countenance  was  very  pale,  and  bore  evidence  of 
weeping.  There  was  a  silence  on  both  sides,  which 
the  girl  was  the  first  to  break. 

"So,  Madge  tells  me,  thou  art  about  to  leave  us?" 

"  Yes,  gentle  maiden !  I — I — that  is,  my  Lord  of 
Warwick  has  summoned  me.  I  wish  and  pray  for  all 
blessings  on  thee!  and — and — if  ever  it  be  mine  to 
serve  or  aid  thee,  it  will  be — that  is — verily,  my  tongue 
falters,  but  my  heart — that  is— fare  thee  well,  maiden! 
Would  thou  hadst  a  less  wise  father;  and  so  may  the 
saints  (St.  Anthony  especially — whom  the  Evil  One 
was  parlous  afraid  of)  guard  and  keep  thee!  " 

With  this  strange  and  incoherent  address,  Marma- 
duke  left  the  maiden  standing  by  the  threshold  of  her 
miserable  chamber.  Hurrying  into  the  hall,  he  sum- 
moned Alwyn  from  his  meditations,  and,  giving  the 
gittern  to  Madge,  with  an  injunction  to  render  it  to  her 
mistress,  with  his  greeting  and  service,  he  vaulted 
lightly  on  his  steed;  the  steady  and  more  sober  Alwyn 
mounted  his  palfrey  with  slow  care  and  due  caution. 
As  the  air  of  spring  waved  the  fair  locks  of  the  young 
cavalier,  as  the  good  horse  caracolled  under  his  lithe- 


no  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

some  weight,  his  natural  temper  of  mind,  hardy,  health- 
ful, joyous,  and  world-awake,  returned  to  him.  The 
image  of  Sibyll  and  her  strange  father  fled  from  his 
thoughts  like  sickly  dreams. 


BOOK   II 

THE  KING'S  COURT, 
CHAPTER   I 

EARL   WARWICK  THE   KING-MAKER 

The  young  men  entered  the  Strand,  which,  thanks 
to  the  profits  of  a  toll-bar,  was  a  passable  road  for 
equestrians,  studded  towards  the  river,  as  we  have 
before  observed,  with  stately  and  half-fortified  man- 
sions ;  while  on  the  opposite  side,  here  and  there, 
were  straggling  houses  of  a  humbler  kind — the  medi- 
eval villas  of  merchant  and  trader — (for,  from  the 
earliest  period  since  the  Conquest,  the  Londoners  had 
delight  in  such  retreats),  surrounded  with  blossoming 
orchards,*  and  adorned  in  front  with  the  fleur-de-lis, 
emblem  of  the  vain  victories  of  renowned  Agincourt. 
But  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  road  northward, 
stretched,  unbuilt  upon,  towards  a  fair  chain  of  fields 
and  meadows,  refreshed  by  many  brooks,  "  turning 
water-mills  with  a  pleasant  noise."  High  rose,  on  the 
thoroughfare,  the  famous  Cross,  at  which  "  the  Judges 
Itinerant  whilome  sate,  without  London."  f  There, 
hallowed  and  solitary,  stood  the  inn  for  the  penitent 
pilgrims,  who  sought  "  the  murmuring  runnels  "  of 
St.  Clement's  healing  well ;  for  in  this  neighbourhood, 

*  Fitzstephen. — "  On  all  sides,  without  the  suburbs,  are  the 
citizens'  gardens  and  orchards,"  &c. 
t  Stowe. 

in 


112  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

even  from  the  age  of  the  Roman,  springs  of  crystal 
wave,  and  salubrious  virtue,  received  the  homage  of 
credulous  disease.  Through  the  gloomy  arches  of 
the  Temple  Gate  and  Lud,  our  horsemen  wound  their 
way,  and  finally  arrived  in  safety  at  Marmaduke's 
hostelrie  in  the  East  Chepe.  Here  Marmaduke  found 
the  decorators  of  his  comely  person  already  assem- 
bled. The  simpler  yet  more  manly  fashions  he  had 
taken  from  the  provinces  were  now  exchanged  for  an 
attire  worthy  the  kinsman  of  the  great  minister  of  a 
court  unparalleled,  since  the  reign  of  William  the 
Red  King,  for  extravagant  gorgeousness  of  dress. 
His  corset  was  of  the  finest  cloth,  sown  with  seed 
pearls ;  above  it,  the  lawn  shirt,  worn  without  collar, 
partially  appeared,  fringed  with  gold;  over  this  was 
loosely  hung  a  super-tunic  of  crimson  sarcenet, 
slashed  and  pounced  with  a  profusion  of  fringes.  His 
velvet  cap,  turned  up  at  the  sides,  extended  in  a  point 
far  over  the  forehead.  His  hose — under  which  appel- 
lation is  to  be  understood  what  serves  us  of  the  mod- 
ern day  both  for  stockings  and  pantaloons — were  of 
white  cloth,  and  his  shoes,  very  narrow,  were  curi- 
ously carved  into  chequer  work  at  the  instep,  and  tied 
with  bobbins  of  gold  thread,  turning  up,  like  skates 
at  the  extremity,  three  inches  in  length.  His  dagger 
was  suspended  by  a  slight  silver-gilt  chain,  and  his 
girdle  contained  a  large  gipsire,  or  pouch,  of  embossed 
leather,  richly  gilt. 

And  this  dress,  marvellous  as  it  seemed  to  the 
Nevile,  the  tailor  gravely  assured  him  was  far  under 
the  mark  of  the  highest  fashion,  and  that  an'  the  noble 
youth  had  been  a  knight,  the  shoes  would  have 
stretched  at  least  three  inches  farther  over  the  natural 
length  of  the  feet,  the  placard  have  shone  with  jewels, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  113 

and  the  tunic  luxuriated  in  flowers  of  damacene.  Even 
as  it  was,  however,  Marmaduke  felt  a  natural  diffi- 
dence of  his  habiliments,  which  cost  him  a  round 
third  of  his  whole  capital.  And  no  bride  ever  unveiled 
herself  with  more  shamefaced  bashfulness  than  did 
Marmaduke  Nevile  experience  when  he  remounted 
his  horse,  and,  taking  leave  of  his  foster-brother,  bent 
his  way  to  Warwick  Lane,  where  the  earl  lodged. 

The  narrow  streets  were,  however,  crowded  with 
equestrians,  whose  dress  eclipsed  his  own,  some  bend- 
ing their  way  to  the  tower,  some  to  the  palaces  of  the 
Flete.  Carriages  there  were  none,  and  only  twrice  he 
encountered  the  huge  litters,  in  which  some  aged 
prelate  or  some  high-born  dame  veiled  greatness  from 
the  day.  But  the  frequent  vistas  to  the  river  gave 
glimpses  of  the  gay  boats  and  barges  that  crowded  the 
Thames,  which  was  then  the  principal  thoroughfare  for 
every  class,  but  more  especially  the  noble.  The  ways 
were  fortunately  dry  and  clean  for  London;  though 
occasionally  deep  holes  and  furrows  in  the  road  men- 
aced perils  to  the  unwary  horseman.  The  streets 
themselves  might  well  disappoint  in  splendour  the 
stranger's  eye ;  for  although,  viewed  at  a  distance, 
ancient  London  was  incalculably  more  picturesque 
and  stately  than  the  modern ;  yet  when  fairly  in  its 
tortuous  labyrinths,  it  seemed  to  those  who  had  im- 
proved the  taste  by  travel,  the  meanest  and  the  mirk- 
iest  capital  of  Christendom.  The  streets  were  marvel- 
lously narrow,  the  upper  stories,  chiefly  of  wood, 
projecting  far  over  the  lower,  which  were  formed  of 
mud  and  plaster.  The  shops  were  pitiful  booths,  and  the 
'prentices  standing  at  the  entrance  bare-headed  and 
cap  in  hand,  and  lining  the  passages,  as  the  old  French 
VOL.  I.— 8 


114  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

writer  avers  comme  idoles,*  kept  up  an  eternal  din 
with  their  clamorous  invitations,  often  varied  by  pert 
witticisms  on  some  churlish  passenger,  or  loud  vitu- 
perations of  each  other.  The  whole  ancient  family  of 
the  London  criers  were  in  full  bay.  Scarcely  had 
Marmaduke's  ears  recovered  the  shock  of  "  Hot  peas- 
cods — all  hot,"  than  they  were  saluted  with  "  mack- 
erel," "  sheep's  feet — hot  sheep's  feet."  At  the 
smaller  taverns  stood  the  inviting  vociferators  of 
"  cock-pie,"  "  ribs  of  beef — hot  beef,"  while,  blended 
with  these  multitoned  discords,  whined  the  vielle  or 
primitive  hurdy-gurdy,  screamed  the  pipe,  twanged 
the  harp,  from  every  quarter  where  the  thirsty  paused 
to  drink,  or  the  idler  stood  to  gape.f 

Through  this  Babel,  Marmaduke  at  last  slowly 
wound  his  way,  and  arrived  before  the  mighty  man- 
sion in  which  the  chief  baron  of  England  held  his 
state. 

As  he  dismounted  and  resigned  his  steed  to  the 
servitor  hired  for  him  by  Alwyn,  Marmaduke  paused 
a  moment,  struck  by  the  disparity,  common  as  it  was 
to  eyes  more  accustomed  to  the  metropolis,  between 
the  stately  edifice  and  the  sordid  neighbourhood.  He 
had  not  noticed  this  so  much,  when  he  had  repaired 
to  the  earl's  house  on  his  first  arrival  in  London — 
for  his  thoughts  then  had  been  too  much  bewildered 
by  the  general  bustle  and  novelty  of  the  scene, — but 
now  it  seemed  to  him,  that  he  better  comprehended 
the  homage  accorded  to  a  great  noble  in  surveying, 
at  a  glance,  the  immeasurable  eminence  to  which  he 
was  elevated  above  his  fellow-men  by  wealth  and  rank. 

Far  on  either  side  of  the  wings  of  the  earl's  abode 
stretched,  in  numerous  deformity,  sheds  rather  than 
*  Perim.  t  See  Lydgate's  "  London  Lyckpenny." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  115 

houses,  of  broken  plaster  and  crazy  timbers.  But, 
here  and  there,  were  open  places  of  public  reception, 
crowded  with  the  lower  followers  of  the  puissant 
chief;  and  the  eye  rested  on  many  idle  groups  of 
sturdy  swash-bucklers,  some  half-clad  in  armour, 
some  in  rude  jerkins  of  leather,  before  the  doors  of 
these  resorts, — as  others,  like  bees  about  a  hive, 
swarmed  in  and  out  with  a  perpetual  hum. 

The  exterior  of  Warwick  House  was  of  a  grey,  but 
dingy  stone,  and  presented  a  half-fortified  and  formi- 
dable appearance.  The  windows,  or  rather  loop-holes 
towards  the  street,  were  few,  and  strongly  barred. 
The  black  and  massive  arch  of  the  gateway  yawned 
between  two  huge  square  towers ;  and  from  a  yet 
higher,  but  slender  tower  on  the  inner  side,  the  flag 
gave  the  "  White  Bear  and  Ragged  Staff "  to  the 
smoky  air.  Still,  under  the  portal  as  he  entered,  hung 
the  grate  of  the  portcullis,  and  the  square  court  which 
he  saw  before  him  swarmed  with  the  more  immediate 
retainers  of  the  earl,  in  scarlet  jackets,  wrought  with 
their  chieftain's  cognisance.  A  man  of  gigantic  girth 
and  stature,  who  officiated  as  porter,  leaning  against 
the  wall  under  the  arch,  now  emerged  from  the 
shadow,  and  with  sufficient  civility  demanded  the 
young  visitor's  name  and  business.  On  hearing  the 
former,  he  bowed  low  as  he  doffed  his  cap,  and  con- 
ducted Marmaduke  through  the  first  quadrangle. 
The  two  sides  to  the  right  and  left  were  devoted  to 
the  offices  and  rooms  of  retainers,  of  whom  no  less 
than  six  hundred,  not  to  speak  of  the  domestic  and 
more  orderly  retinue,  attested  the  state  of  the  Last  of 
the  English  Barons  on  his  visits  to  the  capital.  Far 
from  being  then,  as  now,  the  object  of  the  great  to 
thrust  all  that  belongs  to  the  service  of  the  house 


n6  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

out  of  sight,  it  was  their  pride  to  strike  awe  into  the 
visitor  by  the  extent  of  accommodation  afforded  to 
their  followers:  some  seated  on  benches  of  stone 
ranged  along  the  walls — some  grouped  in  the  centre 
of  the  court — some  lying  at  length  upon  the  two  ob- 
long patches  of  what  had  been  turf,  till  worn  away 
by  frequent  feet — this  domestic  army  filled  the  young 
Nevile  with  an  admiration  far  greater  than  the  gay 
satins  of  the  knights  and  nobles  who  had  gathered 
round  the  lord  of  Montagu  and  Northumberland  at 
the  pastime-ground. 

This  assemblage,  however,  were  evidently  under  a 
rude  discipline  of  their  own.  They  were  neither  noisy 
nor  drunk.  They  made  way  with  surly  obeisance  as 
the  cavalier  passed,  and  closing  on  his  track  like  some 
horde  of  wild  cattle,  gazed  after  him  with  earnest  si- 
lence, and  then  turned  once  more  to  their  indolent 
whispers  with  each  other. 

And  now,  Nevile  entering  the  last  side  of  the  quad- 
rangle, the  huge  hall,  divided  from  the  passage  by  a 
screen  of  stone  fretwork,  so  fine  as  to  attest  the  hand 
of  some  architect  in  the  reign  of  Henry  III.,  stretched 
to  his  right ;  and  so  vast,  in  truth,  it  was,  that  though 
more  than  fifty  persons  were  variously  engaged  there- 
in, their  number  was  lost  in  the  immense  space ;  of 
these,  at  one  end  of  the  longer  and  lower  table  be- 
neath the  dais,  some  squires  of  good  dress  and  mien 
were  engaged  at  chess  or  dice ;  others  were  confer- 
ring in  the  gloomy  embrasures  of  the  casements ; 
some  walking  to  and  fro ;  others  gathered  round  the 
shovel-board.  At  the  entrance  of  this  hall,  the  porter 
left  Marmaduke,  after  exchanging  a  whisper  with  a 
gentleman  whose  dress  eclipsed  the  Nevile's  in  splen- 
dour ;  and  this  latter  personage,  who,  though  of  high 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  117 

birth,  did  not  disdain  to  perform  the  office  of  chamber- 
lain, or  usher,  to  the  king-like  earl,  advanced  to  Mar- 
maduke  with  a  smile,  and  said — 

"  My  lord  expects  you,  sir,  and  has  appointed  this 
time  to  receive  you,  that  you  may  not  be  held  back 
from  his  presence  by  the  crowds  that  crave  audience 
in  the  forenoon.  Please  to  follow  me !  "  This  said, 
the  gentleman  slowly  preceded  the  visitor,  now  and 
then  stopping  to  exchange  a  friendly  word  with  the 
various  parties  he  passed  in  his  progress;  for  the 
urbanity  which  Warwick  possessed  himself,  his  policy 
inculcated  as  a  duty  on  all  who  served  him.  A  small 
door  at  the  other  extremity  of  the  hall  admitted  into 
an  ante-room,  in  which  some  half-score  pages,  the 
sons  of  knights  and  barons,  were  gathered  round  an 
old  warrior,  placed  at  their  head  as  a  sort  of  tutor, 
to  instruct  them  in  all  knightly  accomplishments ; 
and  beckoning  forth  one  of  these  youths  from  the 
ring,  the  earl's  chamberlain  said,  with  a  profound 
reverence — "  Will  you  be  pleased,  my  young  lord,  to 
conduct  your  cousin,  Master  Marmaduke  Nevile,  to 
the  earl's  presence."  The  young  gentleman  eyed  Mar- 
maduke with  a  supercilious  glance. 

"  Marry !  "  said  he,  pertly,  "  if  a  man  born  in  the 
north  were  to  feed  all  his  cousins,  he  would  soon  have 
a  tail  as  long  as  my  uncle,  the  stout  earl's.  Come,  sir 
cousin,  this  way." 

And  without  tarrying  even  to  give  Nevile  informa- 
tion of  the  name  and  quality  of  his  new-found  rela- 
tion— who  was  no  less  than  Lord  Montagu's  son,  the 
sole  male  heir  to  the  honours  of  that  mighty  family, 
though  now  learning  the  apprenticeship  of  chivalry 
amongst  his  uncle's'  pages — the  boy  passed  before 
Marmaduke  with  a  saunter,  that,  had  they  been  in 


n8  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

plain  Westmoreland,  might  have  cost  him  a  cuff  from 
the  stout  hand  of  the  indignant  elder  cousin.  He 
raised  the  tapestry  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and  as- 
cending a  short  flight  of  broad  stairs,  knocked  gently 
on  the  panels  of  an  arched  door  sunk  deep  in  the 
walls. 

"  Enter !  "  said  a  clear,  loud  voice,  and  the  next 
moment  Marmaduke  was  in  the  presence  of  the  King- 
maker. 

He  heard  his  guide  pronounce  his  name,  and  saw 
him  smile  maliciously  at  the  momentary  embarrass- 
ment the  young  man  displayed,  as  the  boy  passed  by 
Marmaduke,  and  vanished.  The  Earl  of  Warwick 
was  seated  near  a  door  that  opened  upon  an  inner 
court,  or  rather  garden,  which  gave  communication 
to  the  river.  The  chamber  was  painted  in  the  style  of 
Henry  III.,  with  huge  figures  representing  the  battle 
of  Hastings,  or  rather,  for  there  were  many  separate 
pieces,  the  conquest  of  Saxon  England.  Over  each 
head,  to  enlighten  the  ignorant,  the  artist  had  taken 
the  precaution  to  insert  a  label,  which  told  the  name 
and  the  subject.  The  ceiling  was  groined,  vaulted,  and 
emblazoned  with  the  richest  gilding  and  colours.  The 
chimney-piece  (a  modern  ornament)  rose  to  the  roof, 
and  represented  in  bold  reliefs,  gilt  and  decorated, 
the  signing  of  Magna  Charta.  The  floor  was  strewed 
thick  with  dried  rushes,  and  odorous  herbs ;  the  fur- 
niture was  scanty,  but  rich.  The  low-backed  chairs, 
of  which  there  were  but  four,  carved  in  ebony,  had 
cushions  of  velvet  with  fringes  of  massive  gold.  A 
small  cupboard,  or  beaufet,  covered  with  carpets  de 
citir  (carpets  of  gilt  and  painted  leather),  of  great 
price,  held  various  quaint  and  curious  ornaments  of 
plate  inwrought  with  precious  stones;  and  beside 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

this — a  singular  contrast — on  a  plain  Gothic  table  lay 
the  helmet,  the  gauntlets,  and  the  battle-axe  of  the 
master,  Warwick  himself,  seated  before  a  large  cum- 
brous desk,  was  writing — but  slowly  and  with  pain — 
and  he  lifted  his  finger  as  the  Nevile  approached,  in 
token  of  his  wish  to  conclude  a  task  probably  little 
congenial  to  his  tastes.  But  Marmaduke  was  grateful 
for  the  moments  afforded  him  to  recover  his  self-pos- 
session, and  to  examine  his  kinsman. 

The  earl  was  in  the  lusty  vigour  of  his  age.  His 
hair,  of  the  deepest  black,  was  worn  short,  as  if  in  dis- 
dain of  the  effeminate  fashions  of  the  day,  and  fretted 
bare  from  the  temples,  by  the  constant  and  early  fric- 
tion of  his  helmet,  gave  to  a  forehead  naturally  lofty 
yet  more  majestic  appearance  of  expanse  and  height. 
His  complexion,  though  dark  and  sunburnt,  glowed 
with  rich  health.  The  beard  was  closely  shaven,  and 
left  in  all  its  remarkable  beauty  the  contour  of  the 
oval  face  and  strong  jaw — strong  as  if  clasped  in  iron. 
The  features  were  marked  and  aquiline,  as  was  com- 
mon to  those  of  Norman  blood.  The  form  spare,  but 
of  prodigious  width  and  depth  of  chest,  the  more  ap- 
parent from  the  fashion  of  the  short  surcoat,  which 
was  thrown  back,  and  left  in  broad  expanse  a  placard, 
not  of  holiday  velvet  and  satins,  but  of  steel  polished 
as  a  mirror,  and  inlaid  with  gold.  And  now,  as  con- 
cluding his  task,  the  earl  rose  and  motioned  Marma- 
duke to  a  stool  by  his  side,  his  great  stature,  which, 
from  the  length  of  his  limbs,  was  not  so  observable 
when  he  sat,  actually  startled  his  guest.  Tall  as  Mar- 
maduke was  himself,  the  earl  towered*  above  him, 

*  The  faded  portrait  of  Richard  Nevile,  Earl  of  Warwick, 
in  the  Rous  Roll,  preserved  at  the  Herald's  College,  does 
justice,  at  least,  to  the  heipht  and  majesty  of  his  stature.  The 
portrait  of  Edward  IV.  is  the  only  one  in  that  long  series 
which  at  all  rivals  the  stately  proportions  of  the  King-maker. 


120  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

— with  his  high,  majestic,  smooth,  unvvrinkled  fore- 
head,— like  some  Paladin  of  the  rhyme  of  poet  or 
romancer;  and,  perhaps,  not  only  in  this  masculine 
advantage,  but  in  the  rare  and  harmonious  combina- 
tion of  colossal  strength  with  graceful  lightness,  a 
more  splendid  union  of  all  the  outward  qualities  we 
are  inclined  to  give  to  the  heroes  of  old,  never  dazzled 
the  eye,  or  impressed  the  fancy.  But  even  this  effect 
of  mere  person  was  subordinate  to  that  which  this 
eminent  nobleman  created — upon  his  inferiors,  at 
least, — by  a  manner  so  void  of  all  arrogance,  yet  of  all 
condescension,  so  simple,  open,  cordial,  and  herolike, 
that  Marmaduke  Nevile,  peculiarly  alive  to  external 
impressions,  and  subdued  and  fascinated  by  the  earl's 
first  word,  and  that  word  was  "  Welcome !  "  dropped 
on  his  knee,  and  kissing  the  hand  extended  to  him, 
said — "  Noble  kinsman,  in  thy  service,  and  for  thy 
sake,  let  me  live  and  die !  "  Had  the  young  man  been 
prepared  by  the  subtlest  master  of  court-craft  for  this 
interview,  so  important  to  his  fortunes,  he  could  not 
have  advanced  a  hundredth  part  so  far  with  the  great 
earl,  as  he  did  by  that  sudden,  frank  burst  of  genuine 
emotion ;  for  Warwick  was  extremely  sensitive  to  the 
admiration  he  excited — vain  or  proud  of  it,  it  matters 
not  which — grateful  as  a  child  for  love,  and  inexor- 
able as  a  woman  for  slight  or  insult :  in  rude  ages,  one 
sex  has  often  the  qualities  of  the  other. 

"  Thou  hast  thy  father's  warm  heart  and  hasty 
thought,  Marmaduke,"  'said  Warwick,  raising  him  ; 
"and  now  he  is  gone  where,  we  trust,  brave  men, 
shrived  of  their  sins,  look  down  upon  us,  who  should 
be  thy  friend  but  Richard  Nevile  ?  So — so — yes — let 
me  look  at  thee.  Ha  !  stout  Guy's  honest  face,  every 
line  of  it ;  but  to  the  girls,  perhaps,  comelier,  for 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  121 

wanting  a  scar  or  two.  Never  blush — thou  shalt  win 
the  scars  yet.  So  thou  hast  a  letter  from  thy  father  ?  " 

"  It  is  here,  noble  lord." 

"  And  why,"  said  the  earl,  cutting  the  silk  with  his 
dagger — "  why  hast  thou  so  long  hung  back  from  pre- 
senting it?  But  I  need  not  ask  thee.  These  uncivil 
times  have  made  kith  and  kin  doubt  worse  of  each 
other  than  thy  delay  did  of  me.  Sir  Guy's  mark,  sure 
eno'!  Brave  old  man!  I  loved  him  the  better,  for 
that,  like  me,  the  sword  was  more  meet  than  the  pen 
for  his  bold  hand."  Here  Warwick  scanned,  with 
some  slowness,  the  lines  dictated  by  the  dead  to  the 
priest;  and  when  he  had  done,  he  laid  the  letter  re- 
spectfully on  his  desk,  and  bowing  his  head  over  it, 
muttered  to  himself — it  might  be  an  Ave  for  the 
deceased.  "  Well,"  he  said,  reseating  himself,  and 
again  motioning  Marmaduke  to  follow  his  example — 
"  thy  father  was,  in  sooth,  to  blame  for  the  side  he 
took  in  the  Wars.  What  son  of  the  Norman  could 
bow  knee  or  vale  plume  to  that  shadow  of  a  king — 
Henry  of  Windsor? — and,  for  his  bloody  wife,  she 
knew  no  more  of  an  Englishman's  pith  and  pride  than 
I  know  of  the  rhymes  and  roundels  of  old  Rene",  her 
father.  Guy  Nevile — good  Guy — many  a  day  in  my 
boyhood  did  he  teach  me  how  to  bear  my  lance  at  the 
crest,  and  direct  my  sword  at  the  mail-joints.  He 
was  cunning  at  fence — thy  worshipful  father — but  I 
was  ever  a  bad  scholar;  and  my  dull  arm,  to  this 
day,  hopes  more  from  its  strength  than  its  craft." 

"  I  have  heard  it  said,  noble  earl,  that  the  stoutest 
hand  can  scarcely  lift  your  battle-axe." 

"Fables!  romaunt!"  answered  the  earl,  smiling; 
"  there  it  lies — go  and  lift  it." 

Marmaduke  went  to  the  table,  and,  though  with 


i22  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

some  difficulty,  raised  and  swung  this  formidable 
weapon. 

"  By  my  halidame,  well  swung,  cousin  mine !  Its 
use  depends  not  on  the  strength,  but  the  practice. 
Why  look  you  now, — there  is  the  boy  Richard  of 
Gloucester,  who  comes  not  up  to  thy  shoulder,  and 
by  dint  of  custom  each  day  can  wield  mace  or  axe 
with  as  much  ease  as  a  jester  doth  his  lathe-sword. 
Ah!  trust  me,  Marmaduke — the  York  House  is  a 
princely  one ;  and  if  we  must  have  a  king,  we  barons, 
by  stout  St.  George,  let  no  meaner  race  ever  furnish 
our  lieges.  But  to  thyself,  Marmaduke — what  are  thy 
views  and  thy  wishes?" 

"  To  be  one  of  thy  following,  noble  Warwick." 

"  I  thank  and  accept  thee,  young  Nevile ;  but  thoit 
hast  heard  that  I  am  about  to  leave  England,  and  in 
the  meantime  thy  youth  would  run  danger  without  a 
guide."  The  earl  paused  a  moment,  and  resumed. 
"  My  brother  of  Montagu  showed  thee  cold  counte- 
nance ;  but  a  word  from  me  will  win  thee  his  grace 
and  favour.  What  sayest  thou — wilt  thou  be  one  of 
his  gentlemen?  If  so,  I  will  tell  thee  the  qualities  a 
man  must  have: — a  discreet  tongue,  a  quick  eye,  the 
last  fashion  in  hood  and  shoe-bobbins,  a  perfect  seat 
on  thy  horse,  a  light  touch  for  the  gittern,  a  voice 
for  a  love-song,  and " 

"  I  have  none  of  these,  save  the  horsemanship, 
gracious  my  lord  ;  and  if  thou  wilt  not  receive  me  thy- 
self, I  will  not  burden  my  Lord  of  Montagu  and 
Northumberland." 

"  Hot  and  quick !  No !  John  of  Montagu  would 
not  suit  thee,  nor  thou  him.  But  how  to  provide  for 
thee  till  my  return,  I  know  not." 

"  Dare  I  not  hope,  then,  to  make  one  of  your  em- 
bassage,  noble  earl  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  123 

Warwick  bent  his  brows,  and  looked  at  him  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Of  our  embassage !  Why,  thou  art  haughty,  in- 
deed !  Nay,  and  so  a  soldier's  son  and  a  Nevile  should 
be  !  I  blame  thee  not ;  but  I  could  not  make  thee  one 
of  n\y  train,  without  creating  a  hundred  enemies — to 
me  (but  that's  nothing) — and  to  thee,  which  were 
much.  Knowest  thou  not  that  there  is  scarce  a  gen- 
tleman of  my  train  below  the  state  of  a  peer's  son, 
and  that  I  have  made,  by  refusals,  malcontents  eno', 
as  it  is — yet,  hold!  there  is  my  learned  brother,  the 
Archbishop  of  York.  Knowest  thou  Latin  and  the 
schools  ?  " 

"  'Fore  Heaven,  my  lord,"  said  the  Nevile,  bluntly, 
"  I  see  already  I  had  best  go  back  to  green  West- 
moreland, for  I  am  as  unfit  for  his  grace  the  arch- 
bishop, as  I  am  for  my  Lord  Montagu." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  earl,  drily,  "  since  thou  hast 
not  yet  station  enough  for  my  train,  nor  glosing  for 
Northumberland,  nor  wit  and  lere  for  the  archbishop, 
I  suppose,  my  poor  youth,  I  must  e'en  make  you  only 
a  gentleman  about  the  king !  It  is  not  a  post  so  sure 
of  quick  rising  and  full  gipsires  as  one  about  myself, 
or  my  brethren,  but  it  will  be  less  envied,  and  is  good 
for  thy  first  essay.  How  goes  the  clock?  Oh!  here 
is  Nick  Alwyn's  new  horologe.  He  tells  me  that  the 
English  will  soon  rival  the  Dutch*  in  these  baubles. 
The  more  the  pity ! — our  red-faced  yeomen,  alas,  are 
fast  sinking  into  lank-jawed  mechanics !  We  shall 

*  Clockwork  appears  to  have  been  introduced  into  England 
in  the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  when  three  Dutch  horologers 
were  invited  over  from  Delft.  They  must  soon  have  passed 
into  common  use,  for  Chaucer  thus  familiarly  speaks  of 
them : — 

"  Full  sickerer  was  his  crowing  in  his  loge, 
Than  is  a  clock  or  any  abbey  orloge." 


124  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

find  the  king  in  his  garden  within  the  next  half-hour. 
Thou  shalt  attend  me." 

Marmaduke  expressed,  with  more  feeling  than  elo- 
quence, the  thanks  he  owed  for  an  offer  that,  he  was 
about  to  say,  exceeded  his  hopes,  but  he  had  already, 
since  his  departure  from  Westmoreland,  acquired 
sufficient  wit  to  think  twice  of  his  words.  And  so 
eagerly,  at  that  time,  did  the  youth  of  the  nobility 
contend  for  the  honour  of  posts  about  the  person  of 
Warwick,  and  even  of  his  brothers,  and  so  strong  was 
the  belief  that  the  earl's  power  to  make  or  to  mar 
fortune  was  all-paramount  in  England,  that  even  a 
place  in  the  king's  household  was  considered  an  in- 
ferior appointment  to  that  which  made  Warwick  the 
immediate  patron  and  protector.  This  was  more 
especially  the  case  amongst  the  more  haughty  and 
ancient  gentry,  since  the  favour  shown  .by  Edward  to 
the  relations  of  his  wife,  and  his  own  indifference  to 
the  rank  and  birth  of  his  associates.  Warwick  had 
therefore  spoken  with  truth  when  he  expressed  a 
comparative  pity  for  the  youth,  whom  he  could  not 
better  provide  for  than  by  a  place  about  the  court  oi 
his  sovereign ! 

The  earl  then  drew  from  Marmaduke  some  account 
of  his  early  training,  his  dependence  on  his  brother, 
his  adventures  at  the  archery-ground,  his  misad- 
venture with  the  robbers,  and  even  his  sojourn  with 
Warner — though  Marmaduke  was  discreetly  silent  as 
to  the  very  existence  of  Sibyll.  The  earl,  in  the  mean 
while,  walked  to  and  fro  the  chamber  with  a  light, 
careless  stride,  every  moment  pausing  to  laugh  at  the 
frank  simplicity  of  his  kinsman,  or  to  throw  in  some 
shrewd  remark,  which  he  cast  purposely  in  the  rough 
Westmoreland  dialect;  for  no  man  ever  attains  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  125 

the  popularity  that  rejoiced  or  accursed  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  without  a  tendency  to  broad  and  familiar 
humour,  without  a  certain  commonplace  of  character 
in  its  shallower  and  more  every-day  properties.  This 
charm — always  great  in  the  great — Warwick  pos- 
sessed to  perfection  ;  and  in  him — such  was  his  native 
and  unaffected  majesty  of  bearing,  and  such  the 
splendour  that  surrounded  his  name — it  never  seemed 
coarse  or  unfamiliar,  but  "  everything  he  did  became 
him  best."  Marmaduke  had  just  brought  his  narra- 
tive to  a  conclusion,  when,  after  a  slight  tap  at  the 
door,  which  Warwick  did  not  hear,  two  fair  young 
forms  bounded  joyously  in,  and,  not  seeing  the 
stranger,  threw  themselves  upon  Warwick's  breast 
with  the  caressing  familiarity  of  infancy. 

"  Ah,  father,"  said  the  elder  of  these  two  girls,  as 
Warwick's  hand  smoothed  her  hair  fondly,  "  you 
promised  you  would  take  us  in  your  barge  to  see  the 
sports  on  the  river,  and  now  it  will  be  too  late." 

"  Make  your  peace  with  your  young  cousins  here," 
said  the  earl,  turning  to  Marmaduke ;  "  you  will  cost 
them  an  hour's  joyaunce.  This  is  my  eldest  daughter, 
Isabel;  and  this  soft-eyed,  pale-cheeked  damozel — 
too  loyal  for  a  leaf  of  the  red  rose — is  the  Lady  Anne." 

The  two  girls  had  started  from  their  father's  arms 
at  the  first  address  to  Marmaduke,  and  their  counte- 
nances had  relapsed  from  their  caressing  and  childlike 
expression,  into  all  the  stately  demureness  with  which 
they  had  been  brought  up  to  regard  a  stranger. 
Howbeit,  this  reserve,  to  which  he  was  accustomed, 
awed  Marmaduke  less  than  the  alternate  gaiety  and 
sadness  of  the  wilder  Sibyll,  and  he  addressed  them 
with  all  the  gallantry  to  the  exercise  of  which  he  had 
been  reared;  concluding  his  compliments  with  a  dec- 


136  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

laration  that  he  would  rather  forego  the  advantage 
proffered  him  by  the  earl's  favour  with  the  king, 
than  foster  one  obnoxious  and  ungracious  memory  in 
damozels  so  fair  and  honoured. 

A  haughty  smile  flitted  for  a  moment  over  the 
proud  young  face  of  Isabel  Nevile ;  but  the  softer 
Anne  blushed,  and  drew  bashfully  behind  her  sister. 

As  yet  these  girls,  born  for  the  highest  and  fated  to 
the  most  wretched  fortunes,  were  in  all  the  bloom  of 
earliest  youth ;  but  the  difference  between  their  char- 
acters might  be  already  observable  in  their  mien  and 
countenance.  Isabel,  of  tall  and  commanding  stat- 
ure, had  some  resemblance  to  her  father,  in  her  aqui- 
line features,  rich,  dark  hair,  and  the  lustrous  brill- 
iancy of  her  eyes ;  while  Anne,  less  striking,  yet  not 
less  lovely,  of  smaller  size  and  slighter  proportions, 
bore  in  her  pale,  clear  face,  her  dove-like  eyes,  and 
her  gentle  brow,  an  expression  of  yielding  meekness 
not  unmixed  with  melancholy,  which,  conjoined  with 
an  exquisite  symmetry  of  features,  could  not  fail  of  ex- 
citing interest  where  her  sister  commanded  admira- 
tion. Not  a  word,  however,  from  either  did  Marma- 
cluke  abstract  in  return  for  his  courtesies,  nor  did 
either  he  or  the  earl  seem  to  expect  it ;  for  the  latter, 
seating  himself  and  drawing  Anne  on  his  knee,  while 
Isabella  walked  with  stately  grace  towards  the  table 
that  bore  her  father's  warlike  accoutrements,  and 
played,  as  it  were,  unconsciously  with  the  black  plume 
on  his  black  burgonot,  said  to  Nevile — 

"  Well,  thou  hast  seen  enough  of  the  Lancastrian 
raptrils  to  make  thee  true  to  the  Yorkists.  I  would 
I  could  say  as  much  for  the  king  himself,  who  is  al- 
ready crowding  the  court  with  that  venomous  faction, 
in  honour  of  Dame  Elizabeth  Grey — born  Mistress 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  i?7 

Woodville,  and  now  Queen  of  England.  Ha!  my 
proud  Isabel,  thou  wouldst  have  better  filled  the 
throne  that  thy  father  built !  " 

And  at  these  words  a  proud  flash  broke  from  the 
earl's  dark  eyes,  betraying  even  to  Marmaduke  the 
secret  of  perhaps  his  earliest  alienation  from  Edward 
IV. 

Isabella  pouted  her  rich  lip,  but  said  nothing.  "  As 
for  thee,  Anne,"  continued  the  earl,  "  it  is  a  pity  that 
monks  cannot  marry — thou  wouldst  have  suited  some 
sober  priest  better  than  a  mailed  knight.  'Fore 
George,  I  would  not  ask  thee  to  buckle  my  baldrick 
when  the  war-steeds  were  snorting,  but  I  would  trust 
Isabel  with  the  links  of  my  hauberk." 

"  Nay,  father,"  said  the  low  timid  voice  of  Anne, 
"  if  thou  wert  going  to  danger,  I  could  be  brave  in  all 
that  could  guard  thee  !  " 

"  Why,  that's  my  girl — kiss  me !  Thou  hast  a  look 
of  thy  mother  now — so  thou  hast !  and  I  will  not  chide 
thee  the  next  time  I  hear  thee  muttering  soft  treason, 
in  pity  of  Henry  of  Windsor." 

"  Is  he  not  to  be  pitied  ? — Crown,  wife,  son,  and 
Earl  Warwick's  stout  arm — lost — lost !  " 

"  No !  "  said  Isabel,  suddenly ;  "  no,  sweet  sister 
Anne,  and  fie  on  thee  for  the  words !  He  lost  all, 
because  he  had  neither  the  hand  of  a  knight  nor  the 
heart  of  a  man !  For  the  rest — Margaret  of  Anjou, 
or  her  butchers,  beheaded  our  father's  father !  " 

"  And  may  God  and  St.  George  forget  me,  when  I 
forget  those  grey  and  gory  hairs !  "  exclaimed  the 
earl ;  and,  putting  away  the,  Lady  Anne  somewhat 
roughly,  he  made  a  stride  across  the  room,  and  stood 
by  his  hearth.  "  And  yet  Edward,  the  son  of  Richard 
of  York,  who  fell  by  my  father's  side — he  forgets — 


128  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

he  forgives !  And  the  minions  of  Rivers  the  Lancas- 
trian tread  the  heels  of  Richard  of  Warwick  I  " 

At  this  unexpected  turn  in  the  conversation,  pecu- 
liarly unwelcome,  as  it  may  be  supposed,  to  the  son  of 
one  who  had  fought  on  the  Lancastrian  side,  in  the 
very  battle  referred  to,  Marmaduke  felt  somewhat  un- 
easy, and,  turning  to  the  Lady  Anne,  he  said,  with 
the  gravity  of  wounded  pride,  "  I  owe  more  to  my 
lord,  your  father,  than  I  even  wist  of — how  much  he 
must  have  overlooked  to " 

"  Not  so ! "  interrupted  Warwick,  who  overheard 
him — "  not  so  ;  thou  wrongest  me !  Thy  father  was 
shocked  at  those  butcheries — thy  father  recoiled  from 
that  accursed  standard — thy  father  was  of  a  stock  an- 
cient and  noble  as  my  own !  But,  these  Woodvilles ! 
• — tush  ! — my  passion  overmasters  me.  We  will  go  to 
the  king — it  is  time." 

Warwick  here  rung  the  hand-bell  on  his  table,  and 
on  the  entrance  of  his  attendant  gentleman,  bade  him 
see  that  the  barge  was  in  readiness ;  then,  beckoning 
to  his  kinsman,  and  with  a  nod  to  his  daughters,  he 
caught  up  his  plumed  cap,  and  passed  at  once  into 
the  garden. 

"  Anne,"  said  Isabel,  when  the  two  girls  were  alone, 
"thou  hast  vexed  my  father,  and  what  marvel?  If 
the  Lancastrians  can  be  pitied,  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
must  be  condemned  !  " 

"  Unkind  !  "  said  Anne,  shedding  tears  ;  "  I  can  pity 
woe  and  mischance,  without  blaming  those  whose 
hard  duty  it  might  be  to  achieve  them." 

"  In  good  sooth,  cannot  I !  Thou  wouldst  pity  and 
pardon  till  thou  leftst  no  distinction  between  foeman 
and  friend — liefe  and  loathing.  Be  it  mine,  like  my 
great  father,  to  love  and  to  hate  1  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  129 

"  Yet  why  art  them  so  attached  to  the  White 
Rose  ? "  said  Anne,  stung,  if  not  to  malice,  at  least  to 
archness.  "  Thou  knowest  my  father's  nearest  wish 
was  that  his  eldest  daughter  might  be  betrothed  to 
King  Edward.  Dost  thou  not  pay  good  for  evil  when 
thou  seest  no  excellence  out  of  the  House  of  York?  " 

"  Saucy  Anne,"  answered  Isabel,  with  a  half  smile, 
"  I  am  not  raught  by  thy  shafts,  for  I  was  a  child  for 
the  nurses,  when  King  Edward  sought  a  wife  for  his 
love.  But  were  I  chafed — as  I  may  be  vain  enough 
to  know  myself — whom  should  I  blame? — Not  the 
king,  but  the  Lancastrian  who  witched  him ! " 

She  paused  a  moment,  and,  looking  away,  added  in 
a  low  tone — "  Didst  thou  hear,  sister  Anne,  if  the 
DuVe  of  Clarence  visited  my  father  the  forenoon?  " 

"  Ah !     Isabel— Isabel !  " 

"  Ah  !  sister  Anne — sister  Anne !  Wilt  thou  know 
all  my  secrets  ere  I  know  them  myself?" — and  Isa- 
bel, with  something  of  her  father's  playfulness,  put 
her  hand  to  Anne's  laughing  lips. 

Meanwhile  Warwick,  after  walking  musingly  a  few 
moments  along  the  garden,  which  was  formed  by  plots 
of  sward,  bordered  with  fruit-trees,  and  white  rose 
trees  not  yet  in  blossom,  turned  to  his  silent  kinsman, 
and  said — "  Forgive  me,  cousin  mine,  for  this  out- 
burst against  thy  brave  father's  faction ;  but  when 
thou  hast  been  a  short  while  at  court,  thou  wilt  see 
where  the  sore  is.  Certes,  I  love  this  king!  "  Here 
his  dark  face  lighted  up.  "  Love  him  as  a  king, — ay, 
and  as  a  son !  And  who  would  not  love  him ;  brave 
as  his  sword,  gallant,  and  winning,  and  gracious  as 
the  noonday  in  summer?  Besides,  I  placed  him  on 
his  throne — I  honour  myself  in  him !  " 

The  earl's  stature  dilated  as  he  spoke  the  last  sen- 
VOL.  I.— Q 


130  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

tence,  and  his  hand  rested  on  his  dagger  hilt.  He 
resumed,  with  the  same  daring  and  incautious  can- 
dour that  stamped  his  dauntless  soldier-like  nature, 
"  God  hath  given  me  no  son.  Isabel  of  Warwick  had 
been  a  mate  for  William  the  Norman ;  and  my  grand- 
son, if  heir  to  his  grandsire's  soul,  should  have  ruled 
from  the  throne  of  England  over  the  realms  of  Charle- 
magne !  But  it  hath  pleased  Him,  whom  the  Chris- 
tian knight  alone  bows  to  without  shame,  to  order 
otherwise.  So  be  it.  I  forgot  my  just  pretensions— 
forgot  my  blood,  and  counselled  the  king  to  strength- 
en his  throne  with  the  alliance  of  Louis  XL  He  re- 
jected the  Princess  Bona  of  Savoy,  to  marry  widow 
Elizabeth  Grey — I  sorrowed  for  his  sake,  and  forgave 
the  slight  to  my  counsels.  At  his  prayer  I  followed 
the  train  of  his  queen,  and  hushed  the  proud  hearts 
of  our  barons  to  obeisance.  But  since  then,  this 
Dame  Woodville,  whom  I  queened,  if  her  husband 
mated,  must  dispute  this  roiaulmo  with  mine  and  me 
— a  Nevile,  now-a-days,  must  vail  his  plume  to  a 
Woodville !  And  not  the  great  barons  whom  it  will 
suit  Edward's  policy  to  win  from  the  Lancastrians 
— not  the  Exeters  and  the  Somersets — but  the  craven 
varlets,  and  lackeys,  and  dross  of  the  camp — false 
alike  to  Henry  and  to  Edward — are  to  be  fondled  into 
lordships  and  dandled  into  power.  Young  man,  I  am 
speaking  hotly — Richard  Nevile  never  lies  nor  con- 
ceals. But  I  am  speaking  to  a  kinsman,  am  I  not? 
Thou  hearest — thou  wilt  not  repeat  ?  " 

"  Sooner  would  I  pluck  forth  my  tongue  by  the 
roots." 

"  Enough  !  "  returned  the  earl,  with  a  pleased  smile. 
"  When  I  come  from  France,  I  will  speak  more  to 
thee.  Meanwhile  be  courteous  to  all  men — servile  to 
none.  Now  to  the  king." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  131 

So  speaking,  he  shook  back  his  surcoat,  drew  his 
cap  over  his  brow,  and  passed  to  the  broad  stairs,  at 
the  foot  of  which  fifty  rowers,  with  their  badges  on 
their  shoulders,  waited  in  the  huge  barge,  gilt  richly 
at  prow  and  stern,  and  with  an  awning  of  silk, 
wrought  with  the  earl's  arms  and  cognisance.  As 
they  pushed  off,  six  musicians,  placed  towards  the 
helm,  began  a  slow  and  half  Eastern  march,  which, 
doubtless,  some  crusader  of  the  Temple  had  brought 
from  the  cymbals  and  trumps  of  Palestine. 


CHAPTER   II 

KING   EDWARD   THE   FOURTH 

The  Tower  of  London,  more  consecrated  to  asso- 
ciations of  gloom  and  blood  than  those  of  gaiety  and 
splendour,  was,  nevertheless,  during  the  reign  of  Ed- 
ward IV.,  the  seat  of  a  gallant  and  gorgeous  court. 
That  king,  from  the  first  to  the  last  so  dear  to  the 
people  of  London,  made  it  his  principal  residence 
when  in  his  metropolis ;  and  its  ancient  halls  and  tow- 
ers were  then  the  scene  of  many  a  brawl  and  gal- 
liard.  As  Warwick's  barge  now  approached  its  huge 
walls,  rising  from  the  river,  there  was  much  that  might 
either  animate  or  awe,  according  to  the  mood  of  the 
spectator.  The  king's  barge,  with  many  lesser  craft, 
reserved  for  the  use  of  the  courtiers,  gay  with  awn- 
ings and  streamers,  and  painting  and  gilding,  lay  be- 
low the  wharfs,  not  far  from  the  gate  of  St.  Thomas, 
now  called  the  Traitor's  Gate.  On  the  walk  raised 
above  the  battlemented  wall  of  the  inner  ward,  not 
only  paced  the  sentries,  but  there  dames  and  knights 
were  inhaling  the  noonday  breezes,  and  the  gleam  of 


132  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

their  rich  dresses  of  cloth  of  gold  glanced  upon  the 
eye  at  frequent  intervals  from  tower  to  tower.  Over 
the  vast  round  turret,  behind  the  Traitor's  Gate,  now 
called  "  The  Bloody  Tower,"  floated  cheerily  in  the 
light  wind,  the  royal  banner.  Near  the  Lion's  Tower, 
two  or  three  of  the  keepers  of  the  menagerie,  in  the 
king's  livery,  were  leading  forth,  by  a  strong  chain, 
the  huge  white  bear  that  made  one  of  the  boasts  of 
the  collection,  and  was  an  especial  favourite  with  the 
king  and  his  brother  Richard.  The  sheriffs  of  Lon-- 
don  were  bound  to  find  this  grisly  minion  his  chain 
and  his  cord,  when  he  deigned  to  amuse  himself  with 
bathing  or  "  fishing  "  in  the  river ;  and  several  boats, 
filled  with  gape-mouthed  passengers,  lay  near  the 
wharf,  to  witness  the  diversions  of  Bruin.  These 
folk  set  up  a  loud  shout  of — "  A  Warwick ! — a  War- 
wick !  "  "  The  stout  earl,  and  God  bless  him !  "  as 
the  gorgeous  barge  shot  towards  the  fortress.  The 
earl  acknowledged  their  greeting  by  vailing  his 
plumed  cap,  and  passing  the  keepers  with  a  merry 
allusion  to  their  care  of  his  own  badge,  and  a  friendly 
compliment  to  the  grunting  bear,  he  stepped  ashore, 
followed  by  his  kinsman.  Now,  however,  he  paused 
a  moment,  and  a  more  thoughtful  shade  passed  over 
his  countenance,  as,  glancing  his  eye  carelessly  aloft 
towards  the  standard  of  King  Edward,  he  caught 
sight  of  the  casement  in  the  neighbouring  tower,  of 
the  very  room  in  which  the  sovereign  of  his  youth, 
Henry  the  Sixth,  was  a  prisoner,  almost  within  hear- 
ing of  the  revels  of  his  successor ;  then,  with  a  quick 
stride,  he  hurried  on  through  the  vast  court,  and, 
passing  the  White  Tower,  gained  the  royal  lodge. 
Here,  in  the  great  hall,  he  left  his  companion,  amidst 
a  group  of  squires  and  gentlemen,  to  whom  he  for- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  '          133 

mally  presented  the  Nevile  as  his  friend  and  kins- 
man, and  was  ushered  by  the  deputy-chamberlain 
(with  an  apology  for  the  absence  of  his  chief,  the  Lord 
Hastings,  who  had  gone  abroad  to  fly  his  falcon) 
into  the  small  garden,  where  Edward  was  idling  away 
the  interval  between  the  noon  and  evening  meals — 
repasts  to  which  already  the  young  king  inclined  with 
that  intemperate  zest  and  ardour  which  he  carried 
into  all  his  pleasures,  and  which  finally  destroyed 
the  handsomest  person,  and  embruted  one  of  the  most 
vigorous  intellects  of  the  age. 

The  garden,  if  bare  of  flowers,  supplied  their  place 
by  the  various  and  brilliant-coloured  garbs  of  the  liv- 
ing beauties  assembled  on  its  straight  walks  and 
smooth  sward.  Under  one  of  those  graceful  clois- 
ters, which  were  the  taste  of  the  day,  and  had  been 
recently  built  and  gaily  decorated,  the  earl  was 
stopped  in  his  path  by  a  group  of  ladies  playing  at 
closheys  (ninepins)  of  ivory;*  and  one  of  these  fair 
dames,  who  excelled  the  rest  in  her  skill,  had  just 
bowled  down  the  central  or  crowned  pin — the  king 
of  the  closheys.  This  lady,  no  less  a  person  than 
Elizabeth,  the  Queen  of  England,  was  then  in  her 
thirty-sixth  year — ten  years  older  than  her  lord — but 
the  peculiar  fairness  and  delicacy  of  her  complexion, 
still  preserved  to  her  beauty  the  aspect  and  bloom  of 
youth.  From  a  lofty  head-gear,  embroidered  with 
fleur-de-lis,  round  which  wreathed  a  light  diadem  of 
pearls,  her  hair  of  the  pale  yellow,  considered  then  the 
perfection  of  beauty,  flowed  so  straight  and  so  shin- 
ing down  her  shoulders,  almost  to  the  knees,  that  it 
seemed  like  a  mantle  of  gold.  The  baudekin  stripes 

*  Narrative  of  Louis  of  Bruges,  Lord  Grauthuse.  Edited  by 
Sir  F.  Madden.  Archaeologia,  1836. 


134  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

(blue  and  gold)  of  her  tunic  attested  her  royalty. 
The  blue  court-pie  of  satin  was  bordered  with  er- 
mine, and  the  sleeves,  fitting  close  to  an  arm  of  ex- 
quisite contour,  shone  with  seed-pearls.  Her  feat- 
ures were  straight  and  regular,  yet  would  have  been 
insipid,  but  for  an  expression  rather  of  cunning  than 
intellect ; — and  the  high  arch  of  her  eyebrows,  with 
a  slight  curve  downward  of  a  mouth  otherwise  beau- 
tiful, did  not  improve  the  expression,  by  an  addition 
of  something  supercilious  and  contemptuous,  rather 
than  haughty  or  majestic. 

"  My  lord  of  Warwick,"  said  Elizabeth,  pointing  to 
the  fallen  closhey,  "  what  would  my  enemies  say  if 
they  heard  I  had  toppled  down  the  king?  " 

"They  would  content  themselves  with  asking  which 
of  your  grace's  brothers  you  would  place  in  his 
stead,"  answered  the  hardy  earl,  unable  to  restrain 
the  sarcasm. 

The  queen  blushed,  and  glanced  round  her  ladies 
with  an  eye  which  never  looked  direct  or  straight 
upon  its  object,  but  wandered  sidelong  with  a  furtive 
and  stealthy  expression,  that  did  much  to  obtain  for 
her  the  popular  character  of  falseness  and  self-seek- 
ing. Her  displeasure  was  yet  more  increased  by  ob- 
serving the  ill-concealed  smile  which  the  taunt  had 
called  forth. 

"  Nay,  my  lord,"  she  said,  after  a  short  pause,  "  we 
value  the  peace  of  our  roiaulme  too  much  for  so  high 
an  ambition.  Were  we  to  make  a  brother  even  the 
prince  of  the  closheys,  we  should  disappoint  the  hopes 
of  a  Nevile." 

The  earl  disdained  pursuing  the  war  of  words,  and 
answering,  coldly — "  The  Neviles  are  more  famous 
for  making  ingrates  than  asking  favours.  I  leave 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  135 

your  highness  to  the  closheys  " — turned  away,  and 
strode  towards  the  king,  who,  at  the  opposite  end  of 
the  garden,  was  reclining  on  a  bench  beside  a  lady, 
in  whose  ear,  to  judge  by  her  downcast  and  blushing 
cheek,  he  was  breathing  no  unwelcome  whispers. 

"  Mort-Dieu !  "  muttered  the  earl,  who  was  singu- 
larly exempt,  himself,  from  the  amorous  follies  of  the 
day,  and  eyed  them  with  so  much  contempt  that  it 
often  obscured  his  natural  downright  penetration  into 
character,  and  never  more  than  when  it  led  him  after- 
wards to  underrate  the  talents  of  Edward  IV. — 
"  Mort-Dieu !  if,  an  hour  before  the  battle  of  Touton, 
some  wizard  had  shown  me  in  his  glass  this  glimpse 
of  the  gardens  of  the  Tower,  that  giglet  for  a  queen, 
and  that  squire  of  dames  for  a  king,  I  had  not  slain 
my  black  destrier  (poor  Malech !),  that  I  might  con- 
quer or  die  for  Edward  Earl  of  March ! " 

"  But  see !  "  said  the  lady,  looking  up  from  the  en- 
amoured and  conquering  eyes  of  the  king ;  "  art  thou 
not  ashamed,  my  lord  ? — the  grim  earl  comes  to  chide 
thee  for  thy  faithlessness  to  thy  queen,  whom  he  loves 
so  well." 

"  Pasque-Dieu !  as  my  cousin  Louis  of  France  says 
or  swears,"  answered  the  king,  with  an  evident  petu- 
lance in  his  altered  voice — "  I  would  that  Warwick 
could  be  only  worn  with  one's  armour!  I  would  as 
lief  try  to  kiss  through  my  vizor  as  hear  him  talk  of 
glory  and  Touton,  and  King  John  and  poor  Edward 
II.,  because  I  am  not  always  in  mail.  Go!  leave  us, 
sweet  bonnibel ! — we  must  brave  the  bear  alone !  " 

The  lady  inclined  her  head,  drew  her  hood  round 
her  face,  and  striking  into  the  contrary  path  from  that 
in  which  Warwick  was  slowly  striding,  gained  the 
group  round  the  queen,  whose  apparent  freedom  from 


136  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

jealousy,  the  consequence  of  cold  affections  and  pru- 
dent calculation,  made  one  principal  cause  of  the  em- 
pire she  held  over  the  powerful  mind,  but  the  indolent 
temper,  of  the  gay  and  facile  Edward. 

The  king  rose  as  Warwick  now  approached  him ; 
and  the  appearance  of  these  two  eminent  persons  was 
in  singular  contrast.  Warwick,  though  richly  and 
even  gorgeously  attired — nay,  with  all  the  care  which 
in  that  age  was  considered  the  imperative  duty  a  man 
of  station  and  birth  owed  to  himself,  held  in  lofty  dis- 
dain whatever  vagary  of  custom  tended  to  cripple  the 
movements  or  womanise  the  man.  No  loose  flowing 
robes — no  shoon  half  a  yard  long — no  flaunting 
tawdriness  of  fringe  and  aiglet,  characterised  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  baron,  who,  even  in  peace,  gave  his 
dress  a  half-martial  fashion. 

But  Edward,  who,  in  common  with  all  the  princes 
of  the  House  of  York,  carried  dress  to  a  passion,  had 
not  only  re-introduced  many  of  the  most  effeminate 
.  modes  in  vogue  under  William  the  Red  King,  but 
added  to  them  whatever  could  tend  to  impart  an 
almost  oriental  character  to  the  old  Norman  garb. 
His  gown  (a  womanly  garment  which  had  greatly 
superseded,  with  men  of  the  highest  rank,  not  only 
the  mantle  but  the  surcoat)  flowed  to  his  heels, 
trimmed  with  ermine,  and  broidered  with  large  flow- 
ers of  crimson  wrought  upon  cloth  of  gold.  Over 
this  he  wore  a  tippet  of  ermine,  and  a  collar  or  neck- 
lace of  uncut  jewels  set  in  filagree  gold ;  the  nether 
limbs  were,  it  is  true,  clad  in  the  more  manly  fashion 
of  tight-fitting  hosen,  but  the  folds  of  the  gown,  as 
the  day  was  somewhat  fresh,  were  drawn  around  so 
as  to  conceal  the  only  part  of  the  dress  which  really 
betokened  the  male  sex.  To  add  to  this  unwarlike 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  137 

attire,  Edward's  locks,  of  a  rich  golden  colour,  and 
perfuming  the  whole  air  with  odours,  flowed  not  in 
curls,  but  straight  to  his  shoulders,  and  the  cheek  of 
the  fairest  lady  in  his  court  might  have  seemed  less 
fair  beside  the  dazzling  clearness  of  a  complexion,  at 
once  radiant  with  health  and  delicate  with  youth. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  all  this  effeminacy,  the  appearance  of 
Edward  IV.  was  not  effeminate.  From  this  it  was 
preserved,  not  only  by  a  stature  little  less  command- 
ing than  that  of  Warwick  himself,  and  of  great 
strength  and  breadth  of  sho'ulder,  but  also  by  feat- 
ures, beautiful  indeed,  but  pre-eminently  masculine 
— large  and  bold  in  their  outline,  and  evincing  by 
their  expression  all  the  gallantry  and  daring  charac- 
teristic of  the  hottest  soldier,  next  to  Warwick,  and, 
without  any  exception,  the  ablest  captain,  of  the  age. 

"  And  welcome — a  merry  welcome,  dear  Warwick, 
and  cousin  mine,"  said  Edward,  as  Warwick  slightly 
bent  his  proud  knee  to  his  king;  "  your  brother,  Lord 
Montagu,  has  but  left  us.  Would  that  our  court  had 
the  same  joyaunce  for  you  as  for  him." 

"  Dear  and  honoured  my  liege,"  answered  War- 
wick, his  brow  smoothing  at  once — for  his  affection- 
ate though  hasty  and  irritable  nature  was  rarely  proof 
against  the  kind  voice  and  winning  smile  of  his  young 
sovereign — "  could  I  ever  serve  you  at  the  court  as 
I  can  with  the  people,  you  would  not  complain  that 
John  of  Montagu  was  a  better  courtier  than  Richard 
of  Warwick.  But  each  to  his  calling.  I  depart  to- 
morrow for  Calais,  and  thence  to  King  Louis.  And, 
surely,  never  envoy  or  delegate  had  better  chance  to 
be  welcome  than  one  empowered  to  treat  of  an  alli- 
ance that  will  bestow  on  a  prince,  deserving,  I  trust, 
his  fortunes,  the  sister  of  the  bravest  sovereign  in 
Christian  Europe." 


138 

"  Now,  out  on  thy  flattery,  my  cousin ;  though  I 
must  needs  own  I  provoked  it  by  my  complaint  of  thy 
courtiership.  But  thou  hast  learned  only  half  thy 
business,  good  Warwick ;  and  it  is  well  Margaret  did 
not  hear  thee.  Is  not  the  prince  of  France  more  to 
be  envied  for  winning  a  fair  lady  than  having  a  fortu- 
nate soldier  for  his  brother-in-law  ?  " 

"  My  liege,"  replied  Warwick,  smiling,  "  thou 
knowest  I  am  a  poor  judge  of  a  lady's  fair  cheek, 
though  indifferently  well  skilled  as  to  the  valour  of 
a  warrior's  stout  arm.  Algates,  the  Lady  Margaret 
is  indeed  worthy  in  her  excellent  beauties  to  become 
the  mother  of  brave  men  ?  " 

"  And  that  is  all  we  can  wring  from  thy  stern  lip, 
man  of  iron.  Well,  that  must  content  us.  But  to 
more  serious  matters."  And  the  king,  leaning  his 
hand  on  the  earl's  arm,  and  walking  with  him  slowly 
to  and  fro  the  terrace,  continued — "  Knowest  thou 
not,  Warwick,  that  this  French  alliance,  to  which  thou 
hast  induced  us,  displeases  sorely  our  good  traders 
of  London  ?  " 

"  Mort-Dieu  !  "  returned  Warwick,  bluntly ;  "  and 
what  business  have  the  flat-caps  with  the  marriage  of 
a  king's  sister?  Is  it  for  them  to  breathe  garlick  on 
the  alliances  of  Bourbons  and  Plantagenets  ?  Faugh  ! 
You  have  spoiled  them,  good  my  lord  king — you  have 
spoiled  them  by  your  condescensions.  Henry  IV. 
staled  not  his  majesty  to  consultations  with  the 
mayor  of  his  city.  Henry  V.  gave  the  knighthood 
of  the  Bath  to  the  heroes  of  Agincourt,  not  to  the 
vendors  of  cloth  and  spices." 

"  Ah,  my  poor  knights  of  the  Bath !  "  said  Edward, 
good-humouredly,  "  wilt  thou  never  let  that  sore  scar 
quietly  over?  Ownest  thou  not  that  the  men  had 
their  merits  ? " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  139 

**  What  the  merits  were,  I  weet  not,"  answered  the 
earl ; — "  unless,  peradventure,  their  wives  were  come- 
ly and  young." 

"  Thou  wrongest  me,  Warwick,"  said  the  king, 
carelessly ;  "  Dame  Cook  was  awry,  Dame  Philips  a 
grandmother,  Dame  Jocelyn  had  lost  her  front  teeth, 
and  Dame  Waer  saw  seven  ways  at  once !  But  thou 
forgettest,  man,  the  occasion  of  those  honours — the 
eve  before  Elizabeth  was  crowned — and  it  was  policy 
to  make  the  city  of  London  have  a  share  in  her  hon- 
ours. As  to  the  rest,"  pursued  the  king,  earnestly 
and  with  dignity,  "  I  and  my  house  have  owed  much 
to  London.  When  the  peers  of  England,  save  thee 
and  thy  friends,  stood  aloof  from  my  cause,  London 
was  ever  loyal  and  true.  Thou  seest  not,  my  poor 
Warwick,  that  these  burgesses  are  growing  up  into 
power  by  the  decline  of  the  orders  above  them.  And 
if  the  sword  is  the  monarch's  appeal  for  his  right,  he 
must  look  to  contented  and  honoured  industry  for 
his  buckler  in  peace.  This  is  policy — policy,  War- 
wick ;  and  Louis  XI.  will  tell  thee  the  same  truths, 
harsh  though  they  grate  in  a  warrior's  ear." 

The  earl  bowed  his  haughty  head,  and  answered 
shortly,  but  with  a  touching  grace — "  Be  it  ever  thine, 
noble  king,  to  rule  as  it  likes  thee ;  and  mine  to  defend 
with  my  blood  even  what  I  approve  not  with  my  brain. 
But  if  thou  doubtest  the  wisdom  of  this  alliance,  it  is 
not  too  late  yet.  Let  me  dismiss  my  following,  and 
cross  not  the  seas.  Unless  thy  heart  is  with  the  mar- 
riage, the  ties  I  would  form  are  threads  and  cobwebs." 

"  Nay,"  returned  Edward,  irresolutely :  "  in  these 
great  state  matters,  thy  wit  is  elder  than  mine;  but 
men  do  say  the  Count  of  Charolois  is  a  mighty  lord, 
and  the  alliance  with  Burgundy  will  be  more  profit- 
able to  staple  and  mart." 


140  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Then,  in  God's  name,  so  conclude  it !  "  said  the 
earl,  hastily,  but  with  so  dark  a  fire  in  his  eyes  that 
Edward,  who  was  observing  him,  changed  counte- 
nance ; — "  only  ask  me  not,  my  liege,  to  advance  such 
a  marriage.  The  Count  of  Charolois  knows  me  as 
his  foe — shame  were  mine  did  I  shun  to  say  where  I 
love,  where  I  hate.  That  proud  dullard  once  slighted 
me  when  we  met  at  his  father's  court — and  the  wish 
next  to  my  heart,  is  to  pay  back  my  affront  with  my 
battle-axe.  Give  thy  sister  to  the  heir  of  Burgundy, 
and  forgive  me  if  I  depart  to  my  castle  of  Middle- 
ham." 

Edward,  stung  by  the  sharpness  of  this  reply,  was 
about  to  answer  as  became  his  majesty  of  king,  when 
Warwick,  more  deliberately  resumed — "  Yet  think 
well,  Henry  of  Windsor  is  thy  prisoner,  but  his  cause 
lives  in  Margaret  and  his  son.  There  is  but  one 
power  in  Europe  that  can  threaten  thee  with  aid  to 
the  Lancastrians,  that  power  is  France.  Make  Louis 
thy  friend  and  ally,  and  thou  givest  peace  to  thy  life 
and  thy  lineage — make  Louis  thy  foe,  and  count  on 
plots  and  stratagems,  and  treason — uneasy  days  and 
sleepless  nights.  Already  thou  hast  lost  one  occasion 
to  secure  that  wiliest  and  most  restless  of  princes,  in 
rejecting  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Bona.  Happily, 
this  loss  can  now  be  retrieved.  But  alliance  with  Bur- 
gundy is  war  with  France — war  more  deadly  because 
Louis  is  a  man  who  declares  it  not — a  war  carried  on 
by  intrigue  and  bribe,  by  spies  and  minions,  till  some 
disaffection  ripens  the  hour  when  young  Edward  of 
Lancaster  shall  land  on  thy  coasts,  with  the  Oriflamme 
and  the  Red  Rose, — with  French  soldiers  and  English 
malcontents.  Wouldst  thou  look  to  Burgundy  for 
help? — Burgundy  will  have  enough  to  guard  its  own 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  141 

frontiers  from  the  gripe  of  Louis  the  Sleepless.  Ed- 
ward, my  king,  my  pupil  in  arms — Edward,  my  loved, 
my  honoured  liege,  forgive  Richard  Nevile  his  blunt- 
ness,  and  let  not  his  faults  stand  in  bar  of  his  coun- 
sels." 

"  You  are  right,  as  you  are  ever — safeguard  of  Eng- 
land, and  pillar  of  my  state,"  said  the  king,  frankly, 
and  pressing  the  arm  he  still  held,  "  Go  to  France  and 
settle  all  as  thou  wilt." 

Warwick  bent  low  and  kissed  the  hand  of  his  sov- 
ereign. "  And,"  said  he,  with  a  slight,  but  a  sad  smile 
— "  when  I  am  gone,  my  liege  will  not  repent,  will  not 
misthink  me,  will  not  listen  to  my  foes,  nor  suffer 
merchant  and  mayor  to  sigh  him  back  to  the  mechan- 
ics of  Flanders  ?  " 

"  Warwick,  thou  deemest  ill  of  thy  king's  kingli- 
ness." 

"  Not  of  thy  kingliness,  but  that  same  gracious 
quality  of  yielding  to  counsel  which  bows  this  proud 
nature  to  submission — often  makes  me  fear  for  thy 
firmness,  when  thy  will  is  won  through  thy  heart.  And 
now,  good  my  liege,  forgive  me  one  sentence  more. 
Heaven  forefend  that  I  should  stand  in  the  way  of  thy 
princely  favours.  A  king's  countenance  is  a  sun  that 
should  shine  on  all.  But  bethink  thee  well,  the  bar- 
ons of  England  are  a  stubborn  and  haughty  race ; 
chafe  not  thy  most  puissant  peers  by  too  cold  a 
neglect  of  their  past  services,  and  too  lavish  a  largess 
to  new  men." 

"  Thou  aimest  at  Elizabeth's  kin,"  interrupted  Ed- 
ward, withdrawing  his  hand  from  his  minister's  arm 
— "  and  I  tell  once  for  all  times,  that  I  would  rather 
sink  to  mine  earldom  of  March,  with  a  subject's  right 
to  honour  where  he  loves,  than  wear  crown  and  wield 


142  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARQNS 

sceptre  without  a  king's  unquestioned  prerogative  to 
ennoble  the  line  and  blood  of  one  he  has  deemed 
worthy  of  his  throne.  As  for  the  barons,  with  whose 
wrath  thou  threatenest  me,  I  banish  them  not. — If 
they  go  in  gloom  from  my  court — why,  let  them  chafe 
themselves  sleek  again  !  " 

"  King  Edward,"  said  Warwick,  moodily, — "  tried 
services  merit  not  this  contempt.  It  is  not  as  the  kith 
of  the  queen  that  I  regret  to  see  lands  and  honour 
lavished  upon  men,  rooted  so  newly  to  the  soil  that 
the  first  blast  of  the  war-trump  will  scatter  their  green- 
ness to  the  winds.  But  what  sorrows  me  is  to  mark 
those  who  have  fought  against  thee,  preferred  to  the 
stout  loyalty  that  braved  block  and  field  for  thy  cause. 
Look  round  thy  court;  where  are  the  men  of  bloody 
York  and  victorious  Teuton? — unrequited,  sullen  in 
their  strongholds — begirt  with  their  yeomen  and  re- 
tainers. Thou  standest — thou,  the  heir  of  York — 
almost  alone  (save  where  the  Neviles — whom  one  day 
thy  court  will  seek  also  to  disgrace  and  discard — vex 
their  old  comrades  in  arms  by  their  defection) — thou 
standest  almost  alone  among  the  favourites  and  min- 
ions of  Lancaster.  Is  there  no  danger  in  proving  to 
men  that  to  have  served  thee  is  discredit — to  have 
warred  against  thee  is  guerdon  and  grace  ?  " 

"  Enough  of  this,  cousin,"  replied  the  king,  with  an 
effort  which  preserved  his  firmness.  "  On  this  head 
we  cannot  agree.  Take  what  else  thou  wilt  of  roy- 
alty— make  treaties  and  contract  marriages — estab- 
lish peace  or  proclaim  war:  but  trench  not  on  my 
sweetest  prerogative  to  give  and  to  forgive.  And 
now,  wilt  thou  tarry  and  sup  with  us?  The  ladies 
grow  impatient  of  a  commune  that  detains  from  their 
eyes  the  stateliest  knight  since  the  Round  Table  was 
chopped  into  fire-wood," 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  143 

"  No,  my  liege,"  said  Warwick,  whom  flattery  of 
this  sort  rather  angered  than  soothed — "  I  have  much 
yet  to  prepare.  I  leave  your  highness  to  fairer  hom- 
age and  more  witching  counsels  than  mine."  So 
saying,  he  kissed  the  king's  hand,  and  was  retiring, 
when  he  remembered  his  kinsman,  whose  humble  in- 
terests, in  the  midst  of  more  exciting  topics,  he  had 
hitherto  forgotten,  and  added,  "  May  I  crave,  since 
you  are  so  merciful  to  the  Lancastrians,  one  grace  for 
my  namesake — a  Nevile,  whose  father  repented  the 
side  he  espoused — a  son  of  Sir  Guy  of  Arsdale  ?  " 

"  Ah,"  said  the  king,  smiling  maliciously,  "  it  pleas- 
eth  us  much  to  find  that  it  is  easier  to  the  warm  heart 
of  our  cousin  Warwick  to  preach  sententiaries  of 
sternness  to  his  king,  than  to  enforce  the  same  by  his 
own  practice !  " 

"  You  misthink  me,  sire.  I  ask  not  that  Marma- 
duke  Nevile  should  supplant  his  superiors  and  elders 
— I  ask  not  that  he  should  be  made  baron  and  peer — 
I  ask  only  that,  as  a  young  gentleman,  who  hath  taken 
no  part  himself  in  the  wars,  and  whose  father  repented 
his  error,  your  grace  should  strengthen  your  follow- 
ing by  an  ancient  name  and  a  faithful  servant.  But 
I  should  have  remembered  me  that  his  name  of  Nevile 
would  have  procured  him  a  taunt  in  the  place  of  ad- 
vancement." 

"  Saw  man  ever  so  froward  a  temper  ?  "  cried  Ed- 
ward, not  without  reason.  "  Why,  Warwick,  thou  art 
as  shrewish  to  a  jest  as  a  woman  to  advice.  Thy  kins- 
man's fortunes  shall  be  my  care.  Thou  sayest  thou 
hast  enemies — I  weet  not  who  they  be.  But  to  show 
what  I  think  of  them,  I  make  thy  namesake  and  client 
a  gentleman  of  my  chamber.  When  Warwick  is  false 
to  Edward,  let  him  think  that  Warwick's  kinsman 


144  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

wears  a  dagger  within  reach  of  the  king's  heart  day 
and  night." 

This  speech  was  made  with  so  noble  and  touching 
a  kindness  of  voice  and  manner,  that  the  earl,  thor- 
oughly subdued,  looked  at  his  sovereign  with  moist- 
ened eyes,  and  only  trusting  himself  to  say — "  Ed- 
ward, thou  art  king,  knight,  gentleman,  and  soldier, 
and  I  verily  trow  that  I  love  thee  best  when  my  petu- 
lant zeal  makes  me  anger  thee  most," — turned  away 
with  evident  emotion,  and  passing  the  queen  and  her 
ladies  with  a  lowlier  homage  than  that  with  which  he 
had  before  greeted  them,  left  the  garden.  Edward's 
eye  followed  him,  musingly.  The  frank  expression 
of  his  face  vanished,  and,  with  the  deep  breath  of  a 
man  who  is  throwing  a  weight  from  his  heart,  he  mut- 
tered— 

"  He  loves  me — yes, — but  will  suffer  no  one  else 
to  love  me !  This  must  end  some  day.  I  am  weary 
of  the  bondage."  And  sauntering  towards  the  ladies, 
he  listened  in  silence,  but  not  apparently  in  displeas- 
ure, to  his  queen's  sharp  sayings  on  the  imperious 
mood  and  irritable  temper  of  the  iron-handed  builder 
of  his  throne. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    ANTECHAMBER 

As  Warwick  passed  the  door  that  led  from  the  gar- 
den, he  brushed  by  a  young  man,  the  baudekin  stripes 
of  whose  vest  announced  his  relationship  to  the  king, 
and  who,  though  far  less  majestic  than  Edward,  pos- 
sessed sufficient  of  family  likeness  to  pass  for  a  very 
handsome  and  comely  person.  But  his  countenance 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  145 

wanted  the  open  and  fearless  expression  which  gave 
that  of  the  king  so  masculine  and  heroic  a  character. 
The  features  were  smaller,  and  less  clearly  cut,  and  to 
a.  physiognomical  observer  there  was  much  that  was 
weak  and  irresolute  in  the  light  blue  eyes  and  the 
smiling  lips,  which  never  closed  firmly,  over  the  teeth. 
He  did  not  wear  the  long  gown  then  so  much  in 
vogue,  but  his  light  figure  was  displayed  to  advan- 
tage by  a  vest,  fitting  it  exactly,  descending  half-way 
down  the  thigh,  and  trimmed  at  the  border  and  the 
collar  with  ermine.  The  sleeves  of  the  doublet  were 
slit,  so  as  to  show  the  white  lawn  beneath,  and 
adorned  with  aiglets  and  knots  of  gold.  Over  the  left 
arm  hung  a  rich  jacket  of  furs  and  velvet,  something 
like  that  adopted  by  the  modern  hussar.  His  hat  or 
cap  was  high  and  tiara-like,  with  a  single  white  plume, 
and  the  ribbon  of  the  garter  bound  his  knee.  Though 
the  dress  of  this  personage  was  thus  far  less  effemi- 
nate than  Edward's,  the  effect  of  his  appearance  was 
infinitely  more  so — partly,  perhaps,  from  a  less  mus- 
cular frame,  and  partly  from  his  extreme  youth.  For 
George  Duke  of  Clarence  was  then,  though  initiated 
not  only  in  the  gaieties,  but  all  the  intrigues  of  the 
court,  only  in  his  eighteenth  year.  Laying  his  hand, 
every  finger  of  which  sparkled  with  jewels,  on  the 
earl's  shoulder — "  Hold !  "  said  the  young  prince  in 
a  whisper,  "  a  word  in  thy  ear,  noble  Warwick." 

The  earl,  who,  next  to  Edward,  loved  Clarence  the 
most  of  his  princely  house,  and  who  always  found  the 
latter  as  docile  as  the  other  (when  humour  or  affec- 
tion seized  him)  was  intractable,  relaxed  into  a  famil- 
iar smile  at  the  duke's  greeting,  and  suffered  the 
young  prince  to  draw  him  aside  from  the  groups  of 
courtiers  with  whom  the  chamber  was  filled,  to  the 
VCL.  I.— 10 


146  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

leaning-places  (as  they  were  called)  of  a  large  mullion 
window.  In  the  mean  while,  as  they  thus  conferred, 
the  courtiers  interchanged  looks,  and  many  an  eye 
of  fear  and  hate  was  directed  towards  the  stately  form 
of  the  earl.  For  these  courtiers  were  composed  prin- 
cipally of  the  kindred  or  friends  of  the  queen,  and 
though  they  dared  not  openly  evince  the  malice 
with  which  they  retorted  Warwick's  lofty  scorn  and 
undisguised  resentment  at  their  new  fortunes,  they 
ceased  not  to  hope  for  his  speedy  humiliation  and 
disgrace,  recking  little  what  storm  might  rend  the 
empire,  so  that  it  uprooted  the  giant  oak,  which  still, 
in  some  measure,  shaded  their  sunlight,  and  checked 
their  growth.  True,  however,  that  amongst  these 
were  mingled,  though  rarely,  men  of  a  hardier  stamp 
and  nobler  birth — some  few  of  the  veteran  friends  of 
the  king's  great  father — and  these,  keeping  sternly 
and  loftily  aloof  from  the  herd,  regarded  Warwick 
with  the  same  almost  reverential  and  yet  affectionate 
admiration  which  he  inspired  amongst  the  yeomen, 
peasants,  and  mechanics  ;  for  in  that  growing  but  quiet 
struggle  of  the  burgesses,  as  it  will  often  happen  in 
more  civilised  times,  the  great  Aristocracy  and  the 
Populace  were  much  united  in  affection,  though  with 
very  different  objects ;  and  the  Middle  and  Trading 
Class,  with  whom  the  earl's  desire  for  French  alli- 
ances and  disdain  of  commerce  had  much  weakened 
his  popularity,  alone  shared  not  the  enthusiasm  of 
their  countrymen  for  the  lion-hearted  minister. 

Nevertheless,  it  must  here  be  owned,  that  the  rise 
of  Elizabeth's  kindred  introduced  a  far  more  intel- 
lectual, accomplished,  and  literary  race  into  court 
favour  than  had  for  many  generations  flourished  in 
so  uncongenial  a  soil :  and  in  this  antechamber  feud, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  147 

the  pride  of  education  and  mind  retaliated  with  juster 
sarcasm  the  pride  of  birth  and  sinews. 

Amongst  those  opposed  to  the  earl,  and  fit  in  all 
qualities  to  be  the  head  of  the  new  movement — if  the 
expressive  modern  word  be  allowed  us — stood  at  that 
moment  in  the  very  centre  of  the  chamber,  Anthony 
Woodville — in  right  of  the  rich  heiress  he  had  mar- 
ried, the  Lord  Scales.  As  when  some  hostile  and  for- 
midable foe  enters  the  meads  where  the  flock  grazes, 
the  gazing  herd  gather  slowly  round  their  leader, — 
so  grouped  the  queen's  faction  slowly,  and  by  de- 
grees, round  this  accomplished  nobleman,  at  the  pro- 
longed sojourn  of  Warwick. 

"  Gramercy ! "  said  the  Lord  Scales,  in  a  somewhat 
affected  intonation  of  voice,  "  the  conjunction  of  the 
bear  and  the  young  lion  is  a  parlous  omen,  for  the 
which  I  could  much  desire  we  had  a  wise  astrologer's 
reading." 

"  It  is  said,"  observed  one  of  the  courtiers,  "  that 
the  Duke  of  Clarence  much  affects  either  the  lands  or 
the  person  of  the  Lady  Isabel." 

"  A  passably  fair  damozel,"  returned  Anthony, 
"  though  a  thought  or  so  too  marked  and  high  in  her 
lineaments,  and  wholly  unlettered,  no  doubt;  which 
were  a  pity,  for  George  of  Clarence  hath  some  pretty 
taste  in  the  arts  and  poesies.  But  as  Occleve  hath 

it — 

'  Gold,  silver,  jewel,  cloth,  beddyng,  array,' 

would  make  gentle  George  amorous  of  a  worse-feat- 
ured face  than  high-nosed  Isabel ;  '  strange  to  spell 
or  rede/  as  I  would  wager  my  best  destrier  to  a  tail- 
or's hobby,  the  damozel  surely  is." 

"  Notest  thou  yon  gaudy  popinjay  ?  "  whispered  the 
Lord  of  St.  John  to  one  of  his  Teuton  comrades,  as, 


148  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

leaning  against  the  wall,  they  overheard  the  sarcasms 
of  Anthony,  and  the  laugh  of  the  courtiers,  who 
glassed  their  faces  and  moods  to  his ;  "  is  the  time  so 
out  of  joint  that  Master  Anthony  Woodville  can 
vent  his  scurrile  japes  on  the  heiress  of  Salisbury  and 
Warwick,  in  the  king's  chamber?  " 

"  And  prate  of  spelling  and  reading,  as  if  they  were 
the  cardinal  virtues,"  returned  his  sullen  companion. 
"  By  my  halidame,  I  have  two  fair  daughters  at  home, 
who  will  lack  husbands,  I  trow,  for  they  can  only  spin 
and  be  chaste — two  maidenly  gifts  out  of  bloom  with 
the  White  Rose." 

In  the  meanwhile,  unwitting,  or  contemptuous  of 
the  attention  they  excited,  Warwick  and  Clarence 
continued  yet  more  earnestly  to  confer. 

"  No,  George,  no,"  said  the  earl,  who,  as  the  de- 
scendant of  John  of  Gaunt,  and  of  kin  to  the  king's 
blood,  maintained,  in  private,  a  father's  familiarity 
with  the  princes  of  York,  though  on  state  occasions, 
and  when  in  the  hearing  of  others,  he  sedulously 
marked  his  deference  for  their  rank — "  no,  George, 
calm  and  steady  thy  hot  mettle,  for  thy  brother's  and 
England's  sake.  I  grieve  as  much  as  thou  to  hear 
that  the  queen  does  not  spare  even  thee  in  her  fro- 
ward  and  unwomanly  peevishness.  But  there  is  a 
glamour  in  this,  believe  me,  that  must  melt  away, 
soon  or  late,  and  our  kingly  Edward  recover  his 
senses." 

"  Glamour!"  said  Clarence  ;  "  thinkest  thou,  indeed, 
that  her  mother,  Jacquetta,  has  bewitched  the  king? 
One  word  of  thy  belief  in  such  spells,  spread  abroad 
amongst  the  people,  would  soon  raise  the  same  storm 
that  blew  Eleanor  Cobham  from  Duke  Humphrey's 
bed,  along  London  streets  in  her  penance-shift." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  149 

"  Troth,"  said  the  earl,  indifferently,  "  I  leave  such 
grave  questions  as  these  to  prelate  and  priest;  the 
glamour  I  spoke  of  is  that  of  a  fair  face  over  a  wanton 
heart ;  and  Edward  is  not  so  steady  a  lover,  that  this 
should  never  wear  out." 

"  It  amates  me  much,  noble  cousin,  that  thou  leav- 
est  the  court  in  this  juncture.  The  queen's  heart  is 
with  Burgundy — the  city's  hate  is  with  France — and 
when  once  thou  art  gone,  I  fear  that  the  king  will  be 
teased  into  mating  my  sister  with  the  Count  of  Charo- 
lois." 

"  Ho !  "  exclaimed  Warwick,  with  an  oath  so  loud 
that  it  rung  through  the  chamber,  and  startled  every 
ear  that  heard  it.  Then,  perceiving  his  indiscretion, 
he  lowered  his  tone  into  a  deep  and  hollow  whisper, 
and  griped  the  prince's  arm,  almost  fiercely,  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Could  Edward  so  dishonour  my  embassy — so 
palter  and  juggle  with  my  faith — so  flout  me  in  the 
eyes  of  Christendom,  I  would — I  would — "  he  paused, 
and  relaxed  his  hold  of  the  duke,  and  added,  with  an 
altered  voice — "  I  would  leave  his  wife  and  his  lemans, 
and  yon  things  of  silk,  whom  he  makes  peers  (that 
is  easy)  but  cannot  make  men — to  guard  his  throne 
from  the  grandson  of  Henry  V.  But  thy  fears,  thy 
zeal,  thy  love  for  me,  dearest  prince  and  cousin,  make 
thee  misthink  Edward's  kingly  honour  and  knightly 
faith.  I  go  with  the  sure  knowledge  that  by  alliance 
with  France  I  shut  the  house  of  Lancaster  from  all 
hope  of  this  roiaulme." 

"  Hadst  thou  not  better,  at  least,  see  my  sister  Mar- 
garet— she  has  a  high  spirit,  and  she  thinks  thou 
mightst,  at  least,  woo  her  assent,  and  tell  her  of  the 
good  gifts  of  her  lord  to  be ! " 


ISO  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Are  the  daughters  of  York  spoilt  to  this  by  the 
manners  and  guise  of  a  court,  in  which  beshrew  me 
if  I  well  know  which  the  woman  and  whom  the  man  ? 
Is  it  not  enough  to  give  peace  to  broad  England — 
root  to  her  brother's  stem  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  wed 
the  son  of  a  king — the  descendant  of  Charlemagne 
and  St.  Louis?  Must  I  go  bonnet  in  hand  and  sim- 
per forth,  the  sleek  personals  of  the  choice  of  her  kith 
and  house ;  swear  the  bridegroom's  side-locks  ere  as 
long  as  King  Edward's,  and  that  he  bows  with  the 
grace  of  Master  Anthony  Woodville?  Tell  her  this 
thyself,  gentle  Clarence,  if  thou  wilt :  all  Warwick 
could  say  would  but  anger  her  ear,  if  she  be  the  maid 
thou  bespeakest  her." 

The  Duke  of  Clarence  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then,  colouring  slightly,  said — "  If,  then,  the  daugh- 
ter's hand  be  the  gift  of  her  kith  alone,  shall  I  have 
thy  favour  when  the  Lady  Isabel " 

"  George,"  interrupted  Warwick,  with  a  fond  and 
paternal  smile,  "  when  we  have  made  England  safe, 
there  is  nothing  the  son  of  Richard  of  York  can  ask 
of  Warwick  in  vain.  Alas !  "  he  added,  mournfully, 
"  thy  father  and  mine  were  united  in  the  same  mur- 
therous  death,  and  I  think  they  will  smile  down  on 
us  from  their  seats  in  heaven,  when  a  happier  genera- 
tion cements  that  bloody  union  with  a  marriage 
bond !  " 

Without  waiting  for  further  parlance,  the  earl 
turned  suddenly  away,  threw  his  cap  on  his  towering 
head,  and  strode  right  through  the  centre  of  the  whis- 
pering courtiers,  who  shrunk,  louting  low,  from  his 
haughty  path,  to  break  into  a  hubbub  of  angry 
exclamations,  or  sarcastic  jests,  at  his  unmannerly 
bearing,  as  his  black  plume  disappeared  in  the  arch 
of  the  vaulted  door. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  151 

While  such  the  scene  in  the  interior  chambers  of 
the  palace,  Marmaduke,  with  the  frank  simpleness 
which  belonged  to  his  youth  and  training,  had  already 
won  much  favour  and  popularity,  and  he  was  laugh- 
ing loud  with  a  knot  of  young  men  by  the  shovel- 
board,  when  Warwick  re-entered.  The  earl,  though 
so  disliked  by  the  courtiers  more  immediately  about 
the  person  of  the  king,  was  still  the  favourite  of  the 
less  elevated  knights  and  gentry  who  formed  the  sub- 
ordinate household  and  retainers ;  and  with  these,  in- 
deed, his  manner,  so  proud  and  arrogant  to  his  foes 
and  rivals,  relapsed  at  once  into  the  ease  of  the  manly 
and  idolised  chief.  He  was  pleased  to  see  the  way 
made  by  his  young  namesake,  and  lifting  his  cap,  as 
he  nodded  to  the  group,  and  leant  his  arm  upon  Mar- 
maduke's  shoulder,  he  said — "  Thanks,  and  hearty 
thanks,  to  you,  knights  and  gentles,  for  your  courte- 
ous reception  of  an  old  friend's  young  son.  I  have 
our  king's  most  gracious  permission  to  see  him  en- 
rolled one  of  the  court  ye  grace.  Ah !  Master  Fal- 
coner, and  how  does  thy  worthy  uncle  ? — braver 
knight  never  trod.  What  young  gentleman  is  yon- 
der ? — a  new  face  and  a  manly  one ;  by  your  favour, 
present  him ! — the  son  of  a  Savile !  Sir,  on  my  re- 
turn, be  not  the  only  Savile  who  shuns  our  table  of 
Warwick  Court.  Master  Dacres,  commend  me  to 
the  lady,  your  mother;  she  and  I  have  danced  many 
a  measure  together  in  the  old  time — we  all  live  again 
in  our  children.  Good  den  to  you,  sirs.  Marma- 
duke, follow  me  to  the  office — you  lodge  in  the  palace. 
You  are  gentleman  to  the  most  gracious  and,  if  War- 
wick lives,  to  the  most  puissant  of  Europe's  sover- 
eigns. I  shall  see  Montagu  at  home;  he  shall  in- 
struct thee  in  thy  duties,  and  requite  thee  for  all 
discourtesies  on  the  archery-ground." 


BOOK    III 

IN    WHICH    THE   HISTORY    PASSES  FROM  THE 

KING'S   COURT     TO    THE    STUDENTS    CELL, 

AND  RELATES  THE  PERILS  THAT  BEFELL  A 

;      PHILOSOPHER    FOR    MEDDLING     WITH    THE 

AFFAIRS  OF   THE    WORLD 

CHAPTER    I 

THE  SOLITARY.  SAGE  AND  THE  SOLITARY   MAID 

While  such  the  entrance  of  Marmaduke  Nevile  into 
a  court,  that  if  far  less  intellectual  and  refined  than 
those  of  later  days,  was  yet  more  calculated  to  dazzle 
the  fancy,  to  sharpen  the  wit,  and  to  charm  the  senses; 
for  round  the  throne  of  Edward  IV.  chivalry  was  mag- 
nificent, intrigue  restless,  and  pleasure  ever  on  the 
wing — Sibyll  had  ample  leisure,  in  her  solitary  home, 
to  muse  over  the  incidents  that  had  preceded  the  de- 
parture of  the  young  guest.  Though  she  had  rejected 
Marmaduke's  proffered  love,  his  tone,  so  suddenly 
altered — his  abrupt,  broken  words  and  confusion — his 
farewell,  so  soon  succeeding  his  passionate  declaration 
— could  not  fail  to  wound  that  pride  of  woman  which 
never  sleeps  till  modesty  is  gone.  But  this  made  the 
least  cause  of  the  profound  humiliation  which  bowed 
down  her  spirit.  The  meaning  taunt  conveyed  in  the 
rhyme  of  the  tymbesteref,  pierced  her  to  the  quick; 
the  calm  indifferent  smile  of  the  stranger,  as  he  re- 
garded her;  the  beauty  of  the  dame  he  attended,  woke 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  153 

mingled  and  contrary  feelings,  but  those  of  jealousy 
were,  perhaps,  the  keenest:  and  in  the  midst  of  all  she 
started  to  ask  herself — if  indeed  she  had  suffered  her 
vain  thoughts  to  dwell  too  tenderly  upon  one  from 
whom  the  vast  inequalities  of  human  life  must  divide 
her  evermore — What  to  her  was  his  indifference? 
Nothing — yet  had  she  given  worlds  to  banish  that 
careless  smile  from  her  remembrance. 

Shrinking,  at  last,  from  the  tyranny  of  thoughts  till 
of  late  unknown,  her  eye  rested  upon  the  gipsire  which 
Alwyn  had  sent  her  by  the  old  servant.  The  sight  re- 
stored to  her  the  holy  recollection  of  her  father,  the 
sweet  joy  of  having  ministered  to  his  wants.  She  put 
up  the  little  treasure,  intending  to  devote  it  all  to  War- 
ner; and  after  bathing  her  heavy  eyes,  that  no  sorrow 
of  hers  might  afflict  the  student,  she  passed,  with  a  list- 
less step,  into  her  father's  chamber. 

There  is,  to  the  quick  and  mercurial  spirits  of  the 
young,  something  of  marvellous  and  preternatural  in 
that  life  within  life,  which  the  strong  passion  of  science 
and  genius  forms  and  feeds: — that  passion  so  much 
stronger  than  love,  and  so  much  more  self-dependent 
— which  asks  no  sympathy,  leans  on  no  kindred  heart — 
which  lives  alone  in  its  works  and  fancies,  like  a  god 
amidst  his  creations. 

The  philosopher,  too,  had  experienced  a  great  afflic- 
tion since  they  met  last.  In  the  pride  of  his  heart,  he 
had  designed  to  show  Marmaduke  the  mystic  opera- 
tions of  his  model,  which  had  seemed  that  morning  to 
open  into  life;  and  when  the  young  man  was  gone, 
and  he  made  the  experiment  alone,  alas !  he  found 
that  new  progress  but  involved  him  in  new  difficulties. 
He  had  gained  the  first  steps  in  the  gigantic  creation 
of  modern  days,  and  he  was  met  by  the  obstacle  that 


154  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

baffled  so  long  the  great  modern  sage.  There  was  the 
cylinder — there  the  boiler;  yet,  work  as  he  would,  the 
steam  failed  to  keep  the  cylinder  at  work.  And  now, 
patiently  as  the  spider  re-weaves  the  broken  web,  his 
untiring  ardour  was  bent  upon  constructing  a  new 
cylinder  of  other  materials.  "  Strange,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  that  the  heat  of  the  mover  aids  not  the 
movement;"  and  so,  blundering  near  the  truth,  he 
laboured  on. 

Sibyll,  meanwhile,  seated  herself  abstractedly  on  a 
heap  of  fagots,  piled  in  the  corner,  and  seemed  busy 
in  framing  characters  on  the  dusty  floor  with  the  point 
of  her  tiny  slipper.  So  fresh  and  fair  and  young  she 
seemed,  in  that  murky  atmosphere,  that  strange  scene, 
and  beside  that  worn  man,  that  it  might  have  seemed 
to  a  poet  as  if  the  youngest  of  the  Graces  were  come 
to  visit  Mulciber  at  his  forge. 

The  man  pursued  his  work — the  girl  renewed  her 
dreams — the  dark  evening  hour  gradually  stealing 
over  both.  The  silence  was  unbroken,  for  the  forge 
and  the  model  were  now  at  rest,  save  by  the  grating 
of  Adam's  file  upon  the  metal,  or  by  some  ejaculation 
of  complacency  now  and  then  vented  by  the  enthusiast. 
So,  apart  from  the  many-noised,  gaudy,  babbling 
world  without,  even  in  the  midst  of  that  bloody,  turbu- 
lent, and  semi-barbarous  time,  went  on  (the  one  neg- 
lected and  unknown,  the  other  loathed  and  hated) 
the  two  movers  of  the  ALL  that  continues  the  airy  life 
of  the  Beautiful  from  age  to  age — the  Woman's  dream- 
ing fancy,  and  the  Man's  active  Genius. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  155 

CHAPTER  II 

MASTER  ADAM   WARNER  GROWS  A   MISER,  AND  BEHAVES 
SHAMEFULLY 

For  two  or  three  days  nothing  disturbed  the  out- 
ward monotony  of  the  recluse's  household.  Appar- 
ently all  had  settled  back  as  before  the  advent  of  the 
young  cavalier.  But  Sibyll's  voice  was  not  heard 
singing,  as  of  old,  when  she  passed  the  stairs  to  her 
father's  room.  She  sat  with  him  in  his  work  no  less 
frequently  and  regularly  than  before;  but  her  childish 
spirits  no  longer  broke  forth  in  idle  talk  or  petulant 
movement,  vexing  the  good  man  from  his  absorption 
and  his  toils.  The  little  cares  and  anxieties,  which 
had  formerly  made  up  so  much  of  Sibyll's  day,  by  fore- 
thought of  provision  for  the  morrow,  were  suspended; 
for  the  money  transmitted  to  her  by  Alwyn,  in  return 
for  the  emblazoned  MSS.  was  sufficient  to  supply  their 
modest  wants  for  months  to  come.  Adam,  more  and 
more  engrossed  in  his  labours,  did  not  appear  to  per- 
ceive the  daintier  plenty  of  his  board,  nor  the  purchase 
of  some  small  comforts  unknown  for  years.  He  only 
said  one  morning — "  It  is  strange,  girl,  that  as  that 
gathers  in  life  (and  he  pointed  to  the  model),  it  seems 
already  to  provide,  to  my  phantasy,  the  luxuries  it 
will  one  day  give  to  us  all  in  truth.  Methought  my  very 
bed  last  night  seemed  wondrous  easy,  and  the  cover- 
ings were  warmer,  for  I  woke  not  with  the  cold!  " 

"Ah!"  thought  the  sweet  daughter,  smiling  through 
moist  eyes — "  while  my  cares  can  smooth  thy  barren 
path  through  life,  why  should  I  cark  and  pine?" 

Their  solitude  was  now  occasionally  broken  in  the 
evenings  by  the  visits  of  Nicholas  Alwyn.  The  young 


i$6  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

goldsmith  was  himself  not  ignorant  of  the  simpler 
mathematics:  he  had  some  talent  for  invention,  and 
took  pleasure  in  the  construction  of  horologes,  though, 
properly  speaking,  not  a  part  of  his  trade.  His  excuse 
for  his  visits  was  the  wish  to  profit  by  Warner's  me- 
chanical knowledge;  but  the  student  was  so  wrapped 
in  his  own  pursuits,  that  he -gave  but  little  instruction 
to  his  visitor.  Nevertheless,  Alwyn  was  satisfied,  for 
he  saw  Sibyll.  He  saw  her  in  the  most  attractive 
phase  of  her  character,  the  loving,  patient,  devoted 
daughter;  and  the  view  of  her  household  virtues  af- 
fected more  and  more  his  honest  English  heart.  But, 
ever  awkward  and  embarrassed,  he  gave  no  vent  to 
his  feelings.  To  Sibyll  he  spoke  little,  and  with  for- 
mal constraint;  and  the  girl,  unconscious  of  her  con- 
quest, was  little  less  indifferent  to  his  visits  than  her 
abstracted  father. 

But  all  at  once  Adam  woke  to  a  sense  of  the  change 
that  had  taken  place — all  at  once  he  caught  scent  of 
gold,  for  his  works  were  brought  to  a  pause  for  want 
of  some  finer  and  more  costly  materials  than  the  coins 
in  his  own  possession  (the  remnant  of  Marmaduke's 
gift)  enabled  him  to  purchase.  He  had  stolen  out  at 
dusk  unknown  to  Sibyll,  and  lavished  the  whole  upon 
the  model,  but  in  vain!  The  model  in  itself  was,  in- 
deed, completed;  his  invention  had  mastered  the  diffi- 
culty that  it  had  encountered.  But  Adam  had  com- 
plicated the  contrivance  by  adding  to  it  experimental 
proofs  of  the  agency  it  was  intended  to  exercise.  It 
was  necessary  in  that  age,  if  he  were  to  convince 
others,  to  show  more  than  the  principle  of  his  engine, 
he  must  show  also  something  of  its  effects;  turn  a  mill 
without  wind  or  water,  or  set  in  motion  some  mimic 
vehicle  without  other  force  than  that  the  contrivance 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  157 

itself  supplied.  And  here,  at  every  step,  new  obstacles 
arose.  It  was  the  misfortune  to  science  in  those  days, 
not  only  that  all  books  and  mathematical  instruments 
were  enormously  dear,  but  that  the  students,  still 
struggling  into  light,  through  the  glorious  delusions 
of  alchemy  and  mysticism — imagined  that,  even  in 
simple  practical  operations,  there  were  peculiar  virtues 
in  virgin  gold  and  certain  precious  stones.  A  link  in 
the  process  upon  which  Adam  was  engaged  failed  him ; 
his  ingenuity  was  baffled,  his  work  stood  still;  and  in 
poring  again  and  again  over  the  learned  MSS. — alas! 
now  lost,  in  which  certain  German  doctors  had  sought 
to  explain  the  pregnant  hints  of  Roger  Bacon,  he 
found  it  inculcated  that  the  axle  of  a  certain  wheel 
must  be  composed  of  a  diamond.  Now  in  truth,  it  so 
happened  that  Adam's  contrivance,  which  (even  with- 
out the  appliances  which  were  added  in  illustration  of 
the  theory)  was  infinitely  more  complicated  than  mod- 
ern research  has  found  necessary,  did  not  even  require 
the  wheel  in  question,  much  less  the  absent  diamond: 
it  happened,  also,  that  his  understanding,  which, 
though  so  obtuse  in  common  life,  was  in  these  matters 
astonishingly  clear,  could  not  trace  any  mathematical 
operations  by  which  the  diamond  axle  would  in  the 
least  correct  the  difficulty  that  had  suddenly  started  up, 
and  yet  the  accursed  diamond  began  to  haunt  him — 
the  German  authority  was  so  positive  on  the  point,  and 
that  authority  had  in  many  respects  been  accurate. 
Nor  was  this  all — the  diamond  was  to  be  no  vulgar 
diamond :  it  was  to  be  endowed,  by  talismanic  skill, 
with  certain  properties  and  virtues;  it  was  to  be  for  a 
certain  number  of  hours  exposed  to  the  rays  of  the 
full  moon;  it  was  to  be  washed  in  a  primitive  and  won- 
drous elixir,  the  making  of  which  consumed  no  little 


158  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

of  the  finest  gold.  This  diamond  was  to  be  to  the 
machine  what  the  soul  is  to  the  body — a  glorious,  all- 
pervading,  mysterious  principle  of  activity  and  life. 
Such  were  the  dreams  that  obscured  the  cradle  of  in- 
fant science !  And  Adam,  with  all  his  reasoning 
powers,  his  lore  in  the  hard  truths  of  mathematics, 
was  but  one  of  the  giant  children  of  the  dawn.  The 
magnificent  phrases  and  solemn  promises  of  the  mys- 
tic Germans  got  firm  hold  of  his  fancy.  Night  and 
day,  waking  or  sleeping,  the  diamond,  basking  in  the 
silence  of  the  full  moon,  sparkled  before  his  eyes — 
meanwhile  all  was  at  a  stand.  In  the  very  last  steps 
of  his  discovery  he  was  arrested.  Then  suddenly 
looking  round  for  vulgar  moneys  to  purchase  the  preci- 
ous gem,  and  the  materials  for  the  soluble  elixir,  he 
saw  that  MONEY  had  been  at  work  around  him — that 
he  had  been  sleeping  softly  and  faring  sumptuously. 
He  was  seized  with  a  divine  rage.  How  had  Sibyll 
dared  to  secrete  from  him  this  hoard?  how  presumed 
to  waste  upon  the  base  body  what  might  have  so  prof- 
ited the  eternal  mind?  In  his  relentless  ardour,  in  his 
sublime  devotion  and  loyalty  to  his  abstract  idea,  there 
was  a  devouring  cruelty,  of  which  this  meek  and  gen- 
tle scholar  was  wholly  unconscious.  The  grim  iron 
model,  like  a  Moloch,  ate  up  all  things — health,  life, 
love;  and  its  jaws  now  opened  for  his  child.  He  rose 
from  his  bed — it  was  daybreak — he  threw  on  his 
dressing-robe — he  strode  into  his  daughter's  room — 
the  grey  twilight  came  through  the  comfortless,  cur- 
tainless  casement,  deep-sunk  into  the  wall.  Adam  did 
not  pause  to  notice  that  the  poor  child,  though  she  had 
provoked  his  anger,  by  refitting  his  dismal  chamber, 
had  spent  nothing  in  giving  a  less  rugged  frown  to  her 
own. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  159 

The  scanty  worm-worn  furniture,  the  wretched  pal- 
let, the  poor  attire  folded  decently  beside — nothing 
save  that  inexpressible  purity  and  cleanliness  which, 
in  the  lowliest  hovel,  a  pure  and  maiden  mind  gathers 
round  it — nothing  to  distinguish  the  room  of  her 
whose  childhood  had  passed  in  courts  from  the  hut  of 
the  meanest  daughter  of  drudgery  and  toil!  No — he 
who  had  lavished  the  fortunes  of  his  father  and  his 
child  into  the  grave  of  his  idea — no — he  saw  nothing 
of  this  self-forgetful  penury — the  diamond  danced  be- 
fore him!  He  approached  the  bed — and  oh!  the  con- 
trast of  that  dreary  room  and  peasant  pallet,  to  the' 
delicate,  pure,  enchanting  loveliness  of  the  sleeping  in- 
mate. The  scanty  covering  left  partially  exposed  the 
snow-white  neck  and  rounded  shoulder;  the  face  was 
pillowed  upon  the  arm,  in  an  infantine  grace;  the  face 
was  slightly  flushed,  and  the  fresh  red  lips  parted  into 
a  smile — for  in  her  sleep  the  virgin  dreamed — a  happy 
dream!  It  was  a  sight  to  have  touched  a  father's 
heart,  to  have  stopped  his  footstep,  and  hushed  his 
breath  into  prayer.  And  call  not  Adam  hard — unnat- 
ural— that  he  was  not  then,  as  men  far  more  harsh 
than  he — for  the  father  at  that  moment  was  not  in  his 
breast — the  human  man  was  gone — he  himself,  like 
his  model,  was  a  machine  of  iron! — his  life  was  his  one 
idea! 

"  Wake,  child,  wake!  "  he  said,  in  a  loud  but  hollow 
voice.  "  Where  is  the  gold  thou  hast  hidden  from 
me?  Wake — confess!  " 

Roused  from  her  gracious  dreams  thus  savagely, 
Sibyll  started,  and  saw  the  eager,  darkened  face  of  her 
father.  Its  expression  was  peculiar  and  undefinable, 
for  it  was  not  threatening,  angry,  stern;  there  was  a 
vacancy  in  the  eyes,  a  strain  in  the  features,  and  yet  a 


160  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

wild  intense  animation  lighting  and  pervading  all — it 
was  as  the  face  of  one  walking  in  his  sleep,  and,  at  the 
first  confusion  of  waking,  Sibyll  thought  indeed  that 
such  was  her  father's  state.  But  the  impatience  with 
which  he  shook  the  arm  he  grasped,  and  repeated,  as 
he  opened  convulsively  his  other  hand,  "  The  gold, 
Sibyll — the  gold!  Why  didst  thou  hide  it  from  me?  " 
speedily  convinced  her  that  her  father's  mind  was 
under  the  influence  of  the  prevailing  malady  that  made 
all  its  weakness  and  all  its  strength. 

"My  poor  father!"  she  said,  pityingly,  "wilt  thou 
not  leave  thyself  the  means  whereby  to  keep  strength 
and  health  for  thine  high  hopes?  Ah!  father,  thy 
Sibyll  only  hoarded  her  poor  gains  for  thee!" 

"The  gold!"  said  Adam,  mechanically,  but  in  a 
softer  voice — "all — all  thou  hast?  How  didst  thou 
get  it — how?" 

"  By  the  labours  of  these  hands.  Ah !  do  not  frown 
on  me!  " 

"  Thou  —  the  child  of  knightly  fathers  —  thou 
labour!  "  said  Adam,  an  instinct  of  his  former  state  of 
gentle-born  and  high-hearted  youth  flashing  from  his 
eyes.  "  It  was  wrong  in  thee!  " 

"  Dost  thou  not  labour  too?  " 

"Ay,  but  for  the  world.     Well— the  gold!  " 

Sibyll  rose,  and  modestly  throwing  over  her  form 
the  old  mantle  which  lay  on  the  pallet,  passed  to  a  cor- 
ner of  the  room,  and  opening  a  chest,  took  from  it  the 
gipsire,  and  held  it  out  to  her  father. 

"If  it  please  thee,  dear  and  honoured  sir,  so  be  it; 
and  Heaven  prosper  it  in  thy  hands!  " 

Before  Adam's  clutch  could  close  on  the  gipsire,  a 
rude  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  the  gipsire  was 
snatched  from  Sibyll,  and  the  gaunt  half-clad  form  of 
Old  Madge  interposed  between  the  two. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  161 

"  Eh,  sir!  "  she  said,  in  her  shrill,  cracked  tone,  "  I 
thought,  when  I  heard  your  door  open,  and  your  step 
hurrying  down,  you  were  after  no  good  deeds.  Fie, 
master,  fie !  I  have  clung  to  you  when  all  reviled,  and 
when  starvation  within  and  foul  words  without  made 
all  my  hire;  for  I  ever  thought  you  a  good  and  mild 
man,  though  little  better  than  stark  wode.  But, 
augh!  to  rob  your  poor  child  thus — to  leave  her  to 
starve  and  pine!  We  old  folks  are  used  to  it.  Look 
round — look  round;  I  remember  this  chamber,  when 
ye  first  came  to  your  father's  hall.  Saints  of  heaven! 
There  stood  the  brave  bed  all  rustling  with  damask 
of  silk ;  on  those  stone  walls  once  hung  fine  arras  of  the 
Flemings — a  marriage  gift  to  my  lady  from  Queen 
Margaret,  and  a  mighty  show  to  see,  and  good  for 
the  soul's  comforts,  with  Bible  stories  wrought  on  it. 
Eh,  sir!  don't  you  call  to  mind  your  namesake,  Master 
Adam,  in  his  brave  scarlet  hosen,  and  Madam  Eve, 
in  her  bonny  blue  kirtle  and  laced  courtpie;  and  now 
— now  look  round,  I  say,  and  see  what  you  have 
brought  your  child  to!  " 

"  Hush !  hush !  Madge,  hush !  "  cried  Sibyll,  while 
Adam  gazed  in  evident  perturbation  and  awakening 
shame  at  the  intruder,  turning  his  eyes  round  the  room 
as  she  spoke,  and  heaving  from  time  to  time  short, 
deep  sighs. 

"  But  I  will  not  hush,"  pursued  the  old  woman;  "  I 
will  say  my  say,  for  I  love  ye  both,  and  I  loved  my 
poor  mistress,  who  is  dead  and  gone.  Ah,  sir,  groan ! 
it  does  you  good.  And  now  when  this  sweet  damsel 
is  growing  up,  now  when  you  should  think  of  saving 
a  marriage  dower  for  her  (for  no  marriage  where  no 
pot  boils),  do  you  rend  from  her  the  little  that  she  has 
drudged  to  gain! — She! — Oh,  out  on  your  heart?  and 
VOL.  I.— ii 


162  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

for  what — for  what,  sir?  For  the  neighbours  to  set 
fire  to  your  father's  house,  and  the  little  ones  to " 

"  Forbear,  woman !  "  cried  Adam,  in  a  voice  of  thun- 
der, "forbear!  Leave  us!"  And  he  waved  his  hand 
as  he  spoke,  with  so  unexpected  a  majesty  that  Madge 
was  awed  into  sudden  silence,  and,  darting  a  look  of 
compassion  at  Sibyll,  she  hobbled  from  the  room. 
Adam  stood  motionless  an  instant;  but  when  he  felt 
his  child's  soft  arms  round  his  neck — when  he  heard 
her  voice  struggling  against  tears,  praying  him  not  to 
heed  the  foolish  words  of  the  old  servant — to  take — 
to  take  all — that  it  would  be  easy  to  gain  more — the 
ice  of  his  philosophy  melted  at  once — the  man  broke 
forth,  and,  clasping  Sibyll  to  his  heart,  and  kissing  her 
cheek,  her  lips,  her  hands,  he  faltered  out — "  No!  no! 
forgive  me! — forgive  thy  cruel  father!  Much  thought 
has  maddened  me,  I  think — it  has  indeed!  Poor 
child,  poor  Sibyll,"  and  he  stroked  her  cheek  gently, 
and  with  a  movement  of  pathetic  pity — "  poor  child, 
thou  art  pale — and  so  slight  and  delicate!  And  this 
chamber — and  thy  loneliness — and — ah! — my  life  hath 
been  a  curse  to  thee,  yet  I  meant  to  bequeath  it  a  boon 
to  all!" 

"  Father,  dear  father,  speak  not  thus.  You  break 

my  heart.  Here,  here take  the  gold — or  rather, 

for  thou  must  not  venture  out  to  insult  again,  let  me 
purchase  with  it  what  thou  needest.  Tell  me,  trust 
me " 

"No!"  exclaimed  Adam,  with  that  hollow  energy 
by  which  a  man  resolves  to  impose  restraint  on  him- 
self; "  I  will  not,  for  all  that  science  ever  achieved — 
I  will  not  lay  this  shame  on  my  soul:  spend  this 
gold  on  thyself — trim  this  room — buy  thee  raiment — 
all  that  thou  needest — I  order — I  command  it!  And 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  163 

hark  thee,  if  thou  gettest  more,  hide  it  from  me — hide 
it  well — men's  desires  are  foul  tempters!  I  never 
knew,  in  following  wisdom,  that  I  had  a  vice.  I  wake 
and  find  myself  a  miser  and  a  robber!  " 

And  with  these  words  he  fled  from  the  girl's  cham- 
ber, gained  his  own  and  locked  the  door. 


CHAPTER    III 

A    STRANGE    VISITOR ALL    AGES   OF    THE    WORLD    BREED 

WORLD-BETTERS 

Sibyll,  whose  soft  heart  bled  for  her  father,  and  who 
now  reproached  herself  for  having  concealed  from  him 
her  little  hoard,  began  hastily  to  dress  that  she  might 
seek  him  out,  and  soothe  the  painful  feelings  which 
the  honest  rudeness  of  Madge  had  aroused.  But  be- 
fore her  task  was  concluded,  there  pealed  a  loud  knock 
at  the  outer  door.  She  heard  the  old  housekeeper's 
quivering  voice  responding  to  a  loud  clear  tone;  and 
presently  Madge  herself  ascended  the  stairs  to  War- 
ner's room,  followed  by  a  man  whom  Sibyll  instantly 
recognised — for  he  was  not  one  easily  to  be  forgotten 
— as  their  protector  from  the  assault  of  the  mob.  She 
drew  back  hastily  as  he  passed  her  door,  and  in  some 
wonder  and  alarm  awaited  the  descent  of  Madge.  That 
'  venerable  personage  having  with  some  difficulty  in- 
duced her  master  to  open  his  door  and  admit  the 
stranger,  came  straight  into  her  young  lady's  chamber. 
"Cheer  up — cheer  up,  sweetheart,"  said  the  old  woman, 
"I  think  better  days  will  shine  soon;  for  the  honest 
man  I  have  admitted  says  he  is  but  come  to  tell  Mas- 
ter Warner  something  that  will  redound  much  to  his 


164  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

profit.  Oh!  he  is  a  wonderful  fellow,  this  same 
Robin!  You  saw  how  he  turned  the  cullions  from 
burning  the  old  house!  " 

"  What!  you  know  this  man,  Madge!  What  is  he, 
and  who? " 

Madge  looked  puzzled.  "  That  is  more  than  I  can 
say,  sweet  mistress.  But  though  he  has  been  but 
some  weeks  in  the  neighbourhood,  they  all  hold  him 
in  high  count  and  esteem.  For  why — it  is  said  he  is 
a  rich  man  and  a  kind  one.  He  does  a  world  of  good 
to  the  poor." 

While  Sibyll  listened  to  such  explanations  as  Madge 
could  give  her,  the  stranger,  who  had  carefully  closed 
the  door  of  the  student's  chamber,  after  regarding 
Adam  for  a  moment  with  silent  but  keen  scrutiny,  thus 
began : — 

"  When  last  we  met,  Adam  Warner,  it  was  with 
satchells  on  our  backs.  Look  well  at  me!  " 

"  Troth,"  answered  Adam,  languidly,  for  he  was  still 
under  the  deep  dejection  that  had  followed  the  scene 
with  Sibyll,  "  I  cannot  call  you  to  mind,  nor  seems  it 
veritable  that  our  school-days  passed  together,  seeing 
that  my  hair  is  grey  and  men  call  me  old ;  but  thou  art 
in  all  the  lustihood  of  this  human  life." 

"  Nathless,"  returned  the  stranger,  "  there  are  but 
two  years  or  so  between  thine  age  and  mine.  When 
thou  wert  poring  over  the  crabbed  text,  and  pattering 
Latin  by  the  ell,  dost  thou  not  remember  a  lack-grace, 
good-for-naught,  Robert  Hilyard,  who  was  always  set- 
ting the  school  in  an  uproar,  and  was  finally  outlawed 
from  that  boy-world  as  he  hath  been  since  from  the 
man's  world,  for  inciting  the  weak  to  resist  the 
strong?  " 

"  Ah!  "exclaimed  Adam,  with  a  gleam  of  something 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  165 

like  joy  on  his  face;  "art  thou,  indeed,  that  riotous, 
brawling,  fighting,  frank-hearted,  bold  fellow,  Robert 
Hilyard?  Ha!  ha! — those  were  merry  days!  I  have 
known  none  like  them " 

The  old  schoolfellows  shook  hands  heartily. 

"  The  world  has  not  fared  well  with  thee  in  person 
or  pouch,  I  fear  me,  poor  Adam,"  said  Hilyard;  "  thou 
canst  scarcely  have  passed  thy  fiftieth  year,  and  yet 
thy  learned  studies  have  given  thee  the  weight  of  sixty; 
while  I,  though  ever  in  toil  and  bustle,  often  wanting 
a  meal,  and  even  fearing  the  halter,  am  strong  and 
hearty  as  when  I  shot  my  first  fallow  buck  in  the  king's 
forest,  and  kissed  the  forester's  pretty  daughter.  Yet, 
methinks,  Adam,  if  what  I  hear  of  thy  tasks  be  true, 
thou  and  I  have  each  been  working  for  one  end;  thou 
to  make  the  world  other  than  it  is,  and  I  to " 

"What!  hast  thou,  too,  taken  nourishment  from 
the  bitter  milk  of  Philosophy, — thou,  fighting  Rob?" 

"  I  know  not  whether  it  be  called  philosophy — but 
marry,  Edward  of  York  would  call  it  rebellion;  they 
are  much  the  same,  for  both  war  against  rules  estab- 
lished! "  returned  Hilyard,  with  more  depth  of  thought 
than  his  careless  manner  seemed  to  promise.  He 
paused,  and  laying  his  broad  brown  hand  on  Warner's 
shoulder,  resumed — "  Thou  art  poor,  Adam!  " 

"  Very  poor — very — very!  " 

"  Does  thy  philosophy  disdain  gold?  " 

"  What  can  philosophy  achieve  without  it?  She  is 
a  hungry  dragon,  and  her  very  food  is  gold!" 

"  Wilt  thou  brave  some  danger — thou  wert  ever  a 
fearless  boy  when  thy  blood  was  up,  though  so  meek 
and  gentle — wilt  thou  brave  some  danger  for  large 
reward?" 

"  My  life  braves  the  scorn  of  men,  the  pinchings  of 


1 66  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

famine,  and,  it  may  be,  the  stake  and  the  fagot.  Sol- 
diers brave  not  the  dangers  that  are  braved  by  a  wise 
man  in  an  unwise  age!  " 

"  Gramercy !  thou  hast  a  hero's  calm  aspect  while 
thou  speakest,  and  thy  words  move  me!  Listen! 
Thou  wert  wont  when  Henry  of  Windsor  was  King  of 
England,  to  visit  and  confer  with  him  on  learned  mat- 
ters. He  is  now  a  captive  in  the  Tower;  but  his  gaol- 
ers permit  him  still  to  receive  the  visits  of  pious  monks 
and  harmless  scholars.  I  ask  thee  to  pay  him  such  a 
visit,  and  for  this  office  I  am  empowered,  by  richer 
men  than  myself,  to  award  thee  the  guerdon  of  twenty 
broad  pieces  of  gold." 

"Twenty!  —  A  mine!  —  A  Tmolus!  "  exclaimed 
Adam,  in  uncontrollable  glee.  "Twenty! — O  true 
friend! — then  my  work  will  be  born  at  last!  " 

"  But  hear  me  further,  Adam,  for  I  will  not  deceive 
thee;  the  visit  hath  its  peril!  Thou  must  first  see  if 
the  mind  of  King  Henry,  for  king  he  is,  though  the 
usurper  wear  his  holy  crown,  be  clear  and  healthful. 
Thou  knowest  he  is  subject  to  dark  moods — suspen- 
sion of  man's  reason;  and  if  he  be,  as  his  friends  hope, 
sane  and  right-judging,  thou  wilt  give  him  certain 
papers,  which,  after  his  hand  has  signed  them,  thou 
wilt  bring  back  to  me.  If  in  this  thou  succeedest, 
know  that  thou  mayst  restore  the  royalty  of  Lancaster 
to  the  purple  and  the  throrte;  that  thou  wilt  have 
princes  and  earls  for  favourers  and  protectors  to  thy 
learned  life;  that  thy  fortunes  and  fame  are  made! 
Fail,  be  discovered  —  and  Edward  of  York  never 
spares! — Thy  guerdon  will  be  the  nearest  tree  and  the 
strongest  rope !  " 

"  Robert,"  said  Adam,  who  had  listened  to  this  ad- 
dress with  unusual  attention,  "  thou  dealest  with  me 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  167 

plainly,  and  as  man  should  deal  with  man.  I  know 
little  of  stratagem  and  polity,  wars  and  kings ;  and  save 
that  King  Henry,  though  passing  ignorant  in  the 
mathematics,  and  more  given  to  alchemists  than  to 
solid  seekers  after  truth,  was  once  or  twice  gracious  to 
me,  I  could  have  no  choice,  in  these  four  walls,  be- 
tween an  Edward  and  a  Henry  on  the  throne.  But 
I  have  a  king  whose  throne  is  in  mine  own  breast, 
and,  alack,  it  taxeth  me  heavily,  and  with  sore  bur- 
dens." 

"  I  comprehend,"  said  the  visitor,  glancing  round 
the  room — "  I  comprehend — thou  wantest  money  for 
thy  books  and  instruments,  and  thy  melancholic  pas- 
sion is  thy  sovereign.  Thou  wilt  incur  the  risk?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Adam.  "  I  would  rather  seek  in  the 
lion's  den  for  what  I  lack,  than  do  what  I  well  nigh 
did  this  day." 

"  What  crime  was  that,  poor  scholar  ?  "  said  Robin, 
smiling. 

"  My  child  worked  for  her  bread,  and  my  luxuries — 
I  would  have  robbed  her,  old  schoolfellow.  Ha! — ha! 
— what  is  cord  and  gibbet  to  one  so  tempted?  " 

A  tear  stood  in  the  bright  grey  eyes  of  the  bluff 
visitor. 

"Ah!  Adam,"  he  said,  sadly,  "only  by  the  candle 
held  in  the  skeleton  hand  of  Poverty  can  man  read  his 
own  dark  heart.  But  thou,  Workman  of  Knowledge, 
hast  the  same  interest  as  the  poor,  who  dig  and  delve. 
Though  strange  circumstance  hath  made  me  the  ser- 
vant and  emissary  of  Margaret,  think  not  that  I  am 
but  the  varlet  of  the  great." 

Hilyard  paused  a  moment,  and  resumed — 

"  Thou  knowest,  peradventure,  that  my  race  dates 
from  an  elder  date  than  these  Norman  nobles,  who 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

boast  their  robber-fathers.  From  the  renowned 
Saxon  Thane,  who,  free  of  hand  and  of  cheer,  won 
the  name  of  Hildegardis,*  our  family  took  its  rise. 
But  under  these  Norman  barons,  we  sank  with  the 
nation  to  which  we  belonged.  Still  were  we  called 
gentlemen,  and  still  were  dubbed  knights.  But,  as  I 
grew  up  to  man's  estate,  I  felt  myself  more  Saxon  than 
gentleman,  and,  as  one  of  a  subject  and  vassal  race, 
I  was  a  son  of  the  Saxon  people.  My  father,  like  thee, 
was  a  man  of  thought  and  bookcraft.  I  dare  own  to 
thee  that  he  was  a  Lollard,  and  with  the  religion  of 
those  bold  foes  to  priest-vice,  goes  a  spirit  that  asks 
why  the  people  should  be  evermore  the  spoil  and  prey 
of  lords  and  kings.  Early  in  my  youth,  my  father, 
fearing  rack  and  fagot  in  England,  sought  refuge  in 
the  Hans  town  of  Lubeck.  There  I  learned  grave 
truths — how  liberty  can  be  won  and  guarded.  Later 
in  life  I  saw  the  republics  of  Italy,  and  I  asked  why 
they  were  so  glorious  in  all  the  arts  and  craft  of  civil 
life,  while  the  braver  men  of  France  and  England 
seemed  as  savages  by  the  side  of  the  Florentine  bur- 
gess, nay,  of  the  Lombard  vine-dresser.  I  saw  that, 
even  when  those  republics  fell  a  victim  to  some  tyrant 
or  podesta,  their  men  still  preserved  rights  and  uttered 
thoughts  which  left  them  more  free  and  more  great 
than  the  Commons  of  England,  after  all  their  boasted 
wars.  I  came  back  to  my  native  land  and  settled  in 
the  North,  as  my  franklin  ancestry  before  me.  The 
broad  lands  of  my  forefathers  had  devolved  on  the 
elder  line,  and  gave  a  knight's  fee  to  Sir  Robert  Hil- 
yard,  who  fell  afterwards  at  Teuton  for  the  Lancas- 
trians. But  I  had  won  gold  in  the  far  countree,  and 

*  Hildegardis,  viz.,  old  German,  a  person  of  noble  or  gen- 
erous disposition.  Wotton's  "  Baronetage,"  art.  Hilyard,  or 
Hildyard,  of  Pattrington. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  169 

I  took  farm  and  homestead  near  Lord  Warwick's 
tower  at  Middleham.  The  feud  between  Lancaster 
and  York  broke  forth;  Earl  Warwick  summoned  his 
retainers,  myself  amongst  them,  since  I  lived  upon  his 
land;  I  sought  the  great  earl,  and  I  told  him  boldly — 
him  whom  the  Commons  deemed  a  friend,  and  a  foe 
to  all  malfaisance  and  abuse — I  told  him  that  the  war 
he  asked  me  to  join  seemed  to  me  but  a  war  of  ambi- 
tious lords,  and  that  I  saw  not  how  the  Commons  were 
to  be  bettered,  let  who  would  be  king.  The  earl  lis- 
tened and  deigned  to  reason;  and  when  he  saw  I  was 
not  convinced,  he  left  me  to  my  will;  for  he  is  a  noble 
chief,  and  I  admired  even  his  angry  pride,  when  he 
said,  '  Let  no  man  fight  for  Warwick  whose  heart 
beats  not  in  his  cause.'  I  lived  afterwards  to  dis- 
charge my  debt  to  the  proud  earl,  and  show  him  how 
even  the  lion  may  be  meshed,  and  how  even  the  mouse 
may  gnaw  the  net.  But  to  my  own  tragedy.  So  I 
quitted  those  parts,  for  I  feared  my  own  resolution 
near  so  great  a  man:  I  made  a  new  home  not  far  from 
the  city  of  York.  So,  Adam,  when  all  the  land  around 
bristled  with  pike  and  gisarme,  and  while  my  own 
cousin  and  namesake,  the  head  of  my  house,  was  win- 
ning laurels  and  wasting  blood — I,  thy  quarrelsome, 
fighting  friend — lived  at  home  in  peace  with  my  wife 
and  child  (for  I  was  now  married,  and  wife  and  child 
were  dear  to  me),  and  tilled  my  lands.  But  in  peace 
I  was  active  and  astir,  for  my  words  inflamed  the 
bosoms  of  labourers  and  peasants,  and  many  of  them, 
benighted  as  they  were,  thought  with  me.  One  day, 
I  was  absent  from  home,  selling  my  grain  in  the  marts 
of  York — one  day  there  entered  the  village  a  young 
captain,  a  boy-chief,  Edward  Earl  of  March,  beating 
for  recruits.  Dost  thou  heed  me,  Adam?  Well,  man 


1 70  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

— well,  the  peasants  stood  aloof  from  tromp  and  ban- 
ner, and  they  answered,  to  all  the  talk  of  hire  and  fame, 
'  Robin  Hilyard  tells  us  we  have  nothing  to  gain  but 
blows — leave  us  to  hew  and  to  delve.'  Oh!  Adam, 
this  boy — this  chief — the  Earl  of  March,  now  crowned 
King  Edward,  made  but  one  reply — '  This  Robin  Hil- 
yard must  be  a  wise  man — show  me  his  house.'  They 
pointed  out  the  ricks,  the  barns,  the  homestead,  and 
in  five  minutes  all — were  in  flames.  '  Tell  the  hilding, 
when  he  returns,  that  thus  Edward  of  March,  fair  to 
friends  and  terrible  to  foes,  rewards  the  coward  who 
disaffects  the  men  of  Yorkshire  to  their  chief.'  And 
by  the  blazing  rafters,  and  the  pale  faces  of  the  silent 
crowd,  he  rode  on  his  way  to  battle  and  the  throne!  " 

Hilyard  paused,  and  the  anguish  of  his  countenance 
was  terrible  to  behold. 

"  I  returned  to  find  a  heap  of  ashes — I  returned  to 
find  my  wife  a  maniac — I  returned  to  find  my  child — 
my  boy — great  God! — he  had  run  to  hide  himself,  in 
terror  at  the  torches  and  the  grim  men — they  had 
failed  to  discover  him,  till,  too  late,  his  shrieks,  amidst 
the  crashing  walls,  burst  on  his  mother's  ear; — and 
the  scorched,  mangled,  lifeless  corpse,  lay  on  that 
mother's  bosom! " 

Adam  rose;  his  figure  was  transformed — not  the 
stooping  student,  but  the  knight-descended  man, 
seemed  to  tower  in  the  murky  chamber;  his  hand  felt 
at  his  side,  as  for  a  sword;  he  stifled  a  curse,  and  Hil- 
yard, in  that  suppressed  low  voice  which  evinces  a 
strong  mind  in  deep  emotion,  continued  his  tale. 

"  Blessed  be  the  Divine  Intercessor,  the  mother  of 
the  dead  died  too!  Behold  me,  a  lonely,  ruined,  wife- 
less, childless  wretch!  I  made  all  the  world  my  foe! 
The  old  love  of  liberty  (alone  left  me)  became  a  crime; 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  171 

I  plunged  into  the  gloom  of  the  forest,  a  robber-chief, 
sparing — no,  never — never — never! — one  York  cap- 
tain— one  spurred  knight — one  belted  lord!  But  the 
poor,  my  Saxon  countrymen,  they  had  suffered,  and 
were  safe! 

"  One  dark  twilight — thou  hast  heard  the  tale — 
every  village  minstrel  sets  it  to  his  viol — a  majestic 
woman — a  hunted  fugitive — crossed  my  path;  she  led 
a  boy  in  her  hand,  a  year  or  so  younger  than  my  mur- 
dered child.  'Friend!'  said  the  woman,  fearlessly, 
4  save  the  son  of  your  king;  I  am  Margaret,  Queen 
of  England ! '  I  saved  them  both.  From  that  hour 
the  robber-chief,  the  Lollard's  son,  became  a  queen's 
friend.  Here  opened,  at  least,  vengeance  against  the 
fell  destroyer.  Now  see  you  why  I  seek  you — why 
tempt  you  into  danger?  Pause,  if  you  will,  for  my 
passion  heats  my  blood; — and  all  the  kings  since  Saul, 
it  may  be,  are  not  worth  one  scholar's  life!  And  yet," 
continued  Hilyard,  regaining  his  ordinary  calm  tone, 
"  and  yet,  it  seemeth  to  me,  as  I  said  at  first,  that  all 
who  labour  have  in  this  a  common  cause  and  interest 
with  the  poor,  This  woman-king,  though  bloody 
man,  with  his  wine-cups  and  his  harlots — this  usurp- 
ing York — his  very  existence  flaunts  the  life  of  the 
sons  of  toil.  In  civil  war  and  in  broil,  in  strife  that 
needs  the  arms  of  the  people,  the  people  shall  get  their 
own." 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Adam,  and  he  advanced  to  the 
door. 

Hilyard  caught  his  arm.  "  Why,  friend,  thou  hast 
not  even  the  documents,  and  how  wouldst  thou  get 
access  to  the  prison  ?  Listen  to  me  ;  or,"  added  the  con- 
spirator, observing  poor  Adam's  abstracted  air,  "  or 
let  me  rather  speak  a  word  to  thy  fair  daughter; 


172  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

women  have  ready  wit,  and  are  the  pioneers  to  the  ad- 
vance of  men!  Adam!  Adam!  thou  art  dreaming!" 
— He  shook  the  philosopher's  arm  roughly. 

"  I  heed  you,"  said  Warner,  meekly. 

"  The  first  thing  required,"  renewed  Hilyard,  "  is  a 
permit  to  see  King  Henry.  This  is  obtained  either 
from  the  Lord  Worcester,  governor  of  the  Tower,  a 
cruel  man,  who  may  deny  it — or  the  Lord  Hastings, 
Edward's  chamberlain,  a  humane  and  gentle  one,  who 
will  readily  grant  it.  Let  not  thy  daughter  know  why 
thou  wouldst  visit  Henry;  let  her  suppose  it  is  solely 
to  make  report  of  his  health  to  Margaret;  let  her  not 
know  there  is  scheming  or  danger;  so,  at  least,  her 
ignorance  will  secure  her  safety.  But  let  her  go  to  the 
lord  chamberlain,  and  obtain  the  order  for  a  learned 
clerk  to  visit  the  learned  prisoner  —  to  —  ha!  well 
thought  of — this  strange  machine  is,  doubtless,  the  in- 
vention of  which  thy  neighbours  speak;  this  shall 
make  thy  excuse;  thou  wouldst  divert  the  prisoner 
with  thy  mechanical — comprehendest  thou,  Adam?" 

"Ah!  King  Henry  will  see  the  model,  and  when  he 
is  on  the  throne " 

"  He  will  protect  the  scholar !  "  interrupted  Hilyard. 
"Good!  good!  Wait  here — I  will  confer  with  thy 
daughter." 

He  gently  pushed  aside  Adam,  opened  the  door,  and 
on  descending  the  stairs,  found  Sibyll  by  the  large 
casement  where  she  had  stood  with  Marmaduke,  and 
heard  the  rude  stave  of  the  tymbesteres. 

The  anxiety  the  visit  of  Hilyard  had  occasioned  her 
was  at  once  allayed,  when  he  informed  her  that  he  had 
been  her  father's  schoolmate,  and  desired  to  become 
his  friend.  And  when  he  drew  a  moving  picture  of 
the  exiled  condition  of  Margaret  and  the  young  prince, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  173 

and  their  natural  desire  to  learn  tidings  of  the  health 
of  the  deposed  king,  her  gentle  heart,  forgetting  the 
haughty  insolence  with  which  her  royal  mistress  had 
often  wounded  and  chilled  her  childhood,  felt  all  the 
generous  and  compassionate  sympathy  the  conspirator 
desired  to  awaken.  "  The  occasion,"  added  Hilyard, 
"  for  learning  the  poor  captive's  state  now  offers !  He 
hath  heard  of  your  father's  labours;  he  desires  to  learn 
their  nature  from  his  own  lips.  He  is  allowed  to  re- 
ceive, by  an  order  from  King  Edward's  chamberlain, 
the  visits  of  those  scholars  in  whose  converse  he  was 
ever  wont  to  delight.  Wilt  thou  so  far  aid  the  char- 
itable work  as  to  seek  the  Lord  Hastings,  and  crave 
the  necessary  licence?  Thou  seest  that  thy  father  has 
wayward  and  abstract  moods;  he  might  forget  that 
Henry  of  Windsor  is  no  longer  king,  and  might  give 
him  that  title  in  speaking  to  Lord  Hastings — a  slip  of 
the  tongue  which  the  law  styles  treason." 

"  Certes,"  said  Sibyll,  quickly,  "  if  my  father  would 
seek  the  poor  captive,  I  will  ,be  his  messenger  to  my 
Lord  Hastings.  But,  oh,  sir!  as  thou  hast  known  my 
father's  boyhood,  and  as  thou  hopest  for  mercy  in  the 
last  day,  tempt  to  no  danger  one  so  guileless?  " 

Hilyard  winced  as  he  interrupted  her  hastily — 

"  There  is  no  danger  if  thou  wilt  obtain  the  licence. 
I  will  say  more — a  reward  awaits  him,  that  will  not 
only  banish  his  poverty  but  save  his  life." 

"His  life!" 

"  Ay!  seest  thou  not,  fair  mistress,  that  Adam  War- 
ner is  dying,  not  of  the  body's  hunger,  but  of  the 
soul's?  He  craveth  gold,  that  his  toils  may  reap  their 
guerdon.  If  that  gold  be  denied,  his  toils  will  fret  him 
to  the  grave !  " 

"Alas!  alas! — it  is  true." 


174  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"That  gold  he  shall  honourably  win!  Nor  is  this 
all.  Thou  wilt  see  the  Lord  Hastings:  he  is  less 
learned,  perhaps,  than  Worcester — less  dainty  in  ac- 
complishments and  gifts  than  Anthony  Woodville,  but 
his  mind  is  profound  and  vast;  all  men  praise  him, 
save  the  queen's  kin.  He  loves  scholars;  he  is  mild 
to  distress ;  he  laughs  at  the  superstitions  of  the  vulgar. 
Thou  wilt  see  the  Lord  Hastings,  and  thou  mayst  in- 
terest him  in  thy  father's  genius  and  his  fate!  " 

"  There  is  frankness  in  thy  voice,  and  I  will  trust 
thee,"  answered  Sibyll.  "  When  shall  I  seek  this 
lord?  " 

"  This  day,  if  thou  wilt.  He  lodges  at  the  Tower, 
and  gives  access,  it  is  said,  to  all  who  need  his  offices, 
or  seek  succour  from  his  power." 

"This  day,  then,  be  it!  "  answered  Sibyll,  calmly. 

Hilyard  gazed  at  her  countenance,  rendered  so  noble 
in  its  youthful  resignation — in  its  soft  firmness  of  ex- 
pression, and  muttering,  "  Heaven  prosper  thee, 
maiden;  we  shall  meet  to-morrow,"  descended  the 
stairs,  and  quitted  the  house. 

His  heart  smote  him  when  he  was  in  the  street. 
"  If  evil  should  come  to  this  meek  scholar — to  that 
poor  child's  father,  it  would  be  a  sore  sin  to  my  soul. 
But  no;  I  will  not  think  it.  The  saints  will  not  suffer 
this  bloody  Edward  to  triumph  long;  and  in  this  vast 
chess-board  of  vengeance  and  great  ends,  we  must 
move  men  to  and  fro,  and  harden  our  natures  to  the 
hazard  of  the  game." 

Sibyll  sought  her  father;  his  mind  had  flown  back 
to  the  model.  He  was  already  living  in  the  life  that 
the  promised  gold  would  give  to  the  dumb  thought. 
True  that  all  the  ingenious  additions  to  the  engine — • 
additions  that  were  to  convince  the  reason  and  startle 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  175 

the  fancy,  were  not  yet  complete  (for  want,  of  course, 
of  the  diamond  bathed  in  moonbeams) — but  still  there 
was  enough  in  the  inventions  already  achieved  to  ex- 
cite curiosity  and  obtain  encouragement.  So,  with 
care  and  diligence  and  sanguine  hope,  the  philosopher 
prepared  the  grim  model  for  exhibition  to  a  man  who 
had  worn  a  crown,  and  might  wear  again.  But  with 
that  innocent  and  sad  cunning  which  is  so  common 
with  enthusiasts  of  one  idea,  the  sublime  dwellers  of 
the  narrow  border  between  madness  and  inspiration, 
Adam,  amidst  his  excitement,  contrived  to  conceal 
from  his  daughter  all  glimpse  of  the  danger  he  run, 
of  the  correspondence  of  which  he  was  to  be  the 
medium, — or  rather,  may  we  think  that  he  had  forgot- 
ten both !  Not  the  stout  Warwick  himself,  in  the  roar 
of  battle,  thought  so  little  of  peril  to  life  and  limb  as 
that  gentle  student,  in  the  reveries  of  his  lonely  closet: 
and  therefore,  all  unsuspicious,  and  seeing  but  diver- 
sion to  Adam's  recent  gloom  of  despair,  an  opening 
to  all  his  bright  prospects,  Sibyll  attired  herself  in  her 
holiday  garments,  drew  her  wimple  closely  round  her 
face,  and  summoning  Madge  to  attend  her,  bent  her 
way  to  the  Tower.  Near  York  House,  within  view  of 
the  Sanctuary  and  the  Palace  of  Westminster,  they 
took  a  boat,  and  arrived  at  the  stairs  of  the  Tower. 


CHAPTER   IV 

LORD   HASTINGS 

William  Lord  Hastings  was  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable men  of  the  age.  Philip  de  Comines  bears 
testimony  to  his  high  repute  for  wisdom  and  virtue. 
Born  the  son  of  a  knight  of  ancient  lineage  but  scanty 


176  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

lands,  he  had  risen,  while  yet  in  the  prime  of  life,  to  a 
rank  and  an  influence  second,  perhaps,  only  to  the 
house  of  Nevile.  Like  Lord  Montagu,  he  united  in 
happy  combination  the  talents  of  a  soldier  and  a  cour- 
tier. But  as  a  statesman — a  schemer — a  thinker — 
Montagu,  with  all  his  craft,  was  inferior  to  Hastings. 
In  this,  the  latter  had  but  two  equals — viz.,  George, 
the  youngest  of  the  Nevile  brothers,  Archbishop  of 
York;  and  a  boy,  whose  intellect  was  not  yet  fully 
developed,  but  in  whom  was  already  apparent  to  the 
observant  the  dawn  of  a  restless,  fearless,  calculating, 
and  subtle  genius — that  boy,  whom  the  philosophers 
of  Utrecht  had  taught  to  reason,  whom  the  lessons 
of  Warwick  had  trained  to  arms,  was  Richard,  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  famous  even  now  for  his  skill  in  the  tilt- 
yard  and  his  ingenuity  in  the  rhetoric  of  the  schools. 

The  manners  of  Lord  Hastings  had  contributed  to 
his  fortunes.  Despite  the  newness  of  his  honours, 
even  the  haughtiest  of  the  ancient  nobles  bore  him  no 
grudge,  for  his  demeanour  was  at  once  modest  and 
manly.  He  was  peculiarly  simple  and  unostentatious 
in  his  habits,  and  possessed  that  nameless  charm  which 
makes  men  popular  with  the  lowly  and  welcome  to  the 
great.*  But  in  that  day  a  certain  mixture  of  vice  was 
necessary  to  success;  and  Hastings  wounded  no  self- 
love  by  the  assumption  of  unfashionable  purism.  He 
was  regarded  with  small  favour  by  the  queen,  who 
knew  him  as  the  companion  of  Edward  in  his  pleas- 

*  On  Edward's  accession,  so  highly  were  the  services  of 
Hastings  appreciated  by  the  party,  that  not  only  the  king,  but 
many  of  the  nobility,  contributed  to  render  his  wealth  equal 
to  his  new  station,  by  grants  of  lands  and  moneys.  Several 
years  afterwards,  when  he  went  with  Edward  into  France,  no 
less  than  two  lords,  nine  knights,  fifty-eight  squires,  and  twen- 
ty gentlemen  joined  his  train. — Dugdale's  "  Baronage,"  p.  583. 
Sharon  Turner's  "  History  of  England,"  vol.  iii.  p.  380. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  177 

ures,  and  at  a  later  period  accused  him  of  enticing  her 
faithless  lord  into  unworthy  affections.  And  certain 
it  is,  that  he  was  foremost  amongst  the  courtiers  in 
those  adventures  which  we  call  the  excesses  of  gaiety 
and  folly,  though  too  often  leading  to  Solomon's  wis- 
dom and  his  sadness.  But  profligacy,  with  Hastings, 
had  the  excuse  of  ardent  passions:  he  had  loved  deep- 
ly, and  unhappily,  in  his  earlier  youth,  and  he  gave  in 
to  the  dissipation  of  the  time  with  the  restless  eager- 
ness common  to  strong  and  active  natures  when  the 
heart  is  not  at  ease ;  and  under  all  the  light  fascination 
of  his  converse,  or  the  dissipation  of  his  life,  lurked  the 
melancholic  temperament  of  a  man  worthy  of  nobler 
things.  Nor  was  the  courtly  vice  of  the  libertine  the 
only  drawback  to  the  virtuous  character  assigned  to 
Hastings  by  Comines.  His  experience  of  men  had 
taught  him  something  of  the  disdain  of  the  cynic,  and 
he  scrupled  not  at  serving  his  pleasures  or  his  ambi- 
tion by  means  which  his  loftier  nature  could  not  ex- 
cuse to  his  clear  sense.*  Still>  however,  the  world, 
which  had  deteriorated,  could  not  harden,  him.  Few 
persons  so  able  acted  so  frequently  from  impulse;  the 
impulses  were,  for  the  most  part,  affectionate  and  gen- 
erous, but  then  came  the  regrets  of  caution  and  experi- 
ence; and  Hastings  summoned  his  intellect  to  correct 
the  movement  of  his  heart — in  other  words,  reflection 
sought  to  undo  what  impulse  had  suggested.  Though 
so  successful  a  gallant,  he  had  not  acquired  the  ruth- 
less egotism  of  the  sensualist,  and  his  conduct  to 
women  often  evinced  the  weakness  of  giddy  youth, 
rather  than  the  cold  deliberation  of  profligate  man- 

*  See  Comines.  book  vi.,  for  a  curious  anecdote  of  what  Mr. 
Sharon  Turner  happily  calls  "  the  moral  coquetry  "  of  Hast- 
ings;— an  anecdote  which  reveals  much  of  his  character. 

VOL.  I. — 12 


i;8  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

hood.  Thus  in  his  veriest  vices  there  was  a  spurious 
amiability — a  seductive  charm;  while,  in  the  graver 
affairs  of  life,  the  intellectual  susceptibility  of  his  nat- 
ure served  but  to  quicken  his  penetration  and  stimu- 
late his  energies,  and  Hastings  might  have  said,  with 
one  of  his  Italian  contemporaries, — "  That  in  subjec- 
tion to  the  influences  of  women  he  had  learned  the 
government  of  men."  In  a  word,  his  powers  to  at- 
tract, and  his  capacities  to  command,  may  be  guessed 
by  this, — that  Lord  Hastings  was  the  only  man  Rich- 
ard III.  seems  to  have  loved,  when  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter,* and  the  only  man  he  seems  to  have  feared,  when 
resolved  to  be  King  of  England.  Hastings  was  alone 
in  the  apartments  assigned  to  him  in  the  Tower,  when 
his  page,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  announced  to  him  the 
visit  of  a  young  donzell,  who  would  not  impart  her 
business  to  his  attendants. 

The  accomplished  chamberlain  looked  up  somewhat 
impatiently  from  the  beautiful  MS.,  enriched  with  the 
silver  verse  of  Petrarch,  which  lay  open  on  his  table, 
and  after  muttering  to  himself — "  It  is  only  Edward 
to  whom  the  face  of  a  woman  never  is  unwelcome," 
bade  the  page  admit  the  visitor. 

The  damsel  entered,  and  the  door  closed  upon  her. 

"  Be  not  alarmed,  maiden,"  said  Hastings,  touched 
by  the  downcast  bend  of  the  hooded  countenance,  and 
the  unmistakable  and  timid  modesty  of  his  visitor's 
bearing.  "What  hast  thou  to  say  to  me?" 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  Sibyll  Warner  started, 
and  uttered  a  faint  exclamation.  The  stranger  of  the 
pastime-ground  was  before  her.  Instinctively  she 
drew  the  wimple  yet  more  closely  round  her  face,  and 

*  Sir  Thomas  More,  "  Life  of  Edward  V.,"  speaks  of  "  the 
great  love  "  Richard  bore  to  Hastings. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  179 

laid  her  hand  upon  the  bolt  of  the  door  as  if  in  the 
impulse  of  retreat. 

The  nobleman's  curiosity  was  roused.  He  looked 
again  and  earnestly  on  the  form  that  seemed  to  shrink 
from  his  gaze;  then  rising  slowly,  he  advanced,  and 
laid  his  hand  on  her  arm; — "  Donzell,  I  recognise 
thee,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  cold  and  stern — 
"What  service  wouldst  thou  ask  me  to  render  thee! 
Speak!  Nay!  I  pray  thee,  speak." 

"  Indeed,  good  my  lord,"  said  Sibyll,  conquering  her 
confusion;  and,  lifting  her  wimple,  her  dark  blue  eyes 
met  those  bent  on  her,  with  fearless  truth  and  inno- 
cence, "  I  knew  not,  and  you  will  believe  me — I  knew 
not  till  this  moment  that  I  had  such  cause  for  gratitude 
to  the  Lord  Hastings.  I  sought  you  but  on  the  behalf 
of  my  father,  Master  Adam  Warner,  who  would  fain 
have  the  permission  accorded  to  other  scholars,  to  see 
the  Lord  Henry  of  Windsor,  who  was  gracious  to  him 
in  other  days,  and  to  while  the  duress  of  that  princely 
captive  with  the  show  of  a  quaint  instrument  he  has 
invented." 

"  Doubtless,"  answered  Hastings,  who  deserved  his 
character  (rare  in  that  day)  for  humanity  and  mildness 
— "  doubtless  it  will  pleasure  me,  nor  offend  his  grace 
the  king,  to  show  all  courtesy  and  indulgence  to  the 
unhappy  gentleman  and  lord,  whom  the  weal  of  Eng- 
land condemns  us  to  hold  incarcerate.  I  have  heard 
of  thy  father,  maiden,  an  honest  and  simple  man,  in 
whom  we  need  not  fear  a  conspirator;  and  of  thee, 
young  mistress,  I  have  heard  also,  since  we  parted." 

"  Of  me,  noble  sir?  " 

"  Of  thee,"  said  Hastings,  with  a  smile;  and,  placing 
a  seat  for  her,  he  took  from  the  table  an  illuminated 
MS.  "  I  have  to  thank  thy  friend,  Master  Alwyn,  for 
procuring  me  this  treasure!" 


i8o  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  What,  my  lord !  "  said  Sibyll,  and  her  eyes  glis- 
tened, "  were  you — you  the — the " 

"  The  fortunate  person  whom  Alwyn  has  enriched 
at  so  slight  a  cost.  Yes.  Do  not  grudge  me  my  good 
fortune  in  this.  Thou  hast  nobler  treasures,  methinks, 
to  bestow  on  another!  " 

"My  good  lord!" 

"  Nay,  I  must  not  distress  thee.  And  the  young 
gentleman  has  a  fair  face;  may  it  bespeak  a  true 
heart!" 

These  words  gave  Sibyll  an  emotion  of  strange  de- 
light. They  seemed  spoken  sadly — they  seemed  to 
betoken  a  jealous  sorrow — they  awoke  the  strange, 
wayward  woman-feeling,  which  is  pleased  at  the  pain 
that  betrays  the  women's  influence:  the  girl's  rosy  lips 
smiled  maliciously.  Hastings  watched  her,  and  her 
face  was  so  radiant  with  that  rare  gleam  of  secret  hap- 
piness— so  fresh,  so  young,  so  pure,  and  withal  so  arch 
and  captivating,  that  hackneyed  and  jaded  as  he  was 
in  the  vulgar  pursuit  of  pleasure,  the  sight  moved  bet- 
ter and  tenderer  feelings  than  those  of  the  sensualist. 
"  Yes,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  there  are  some  toys 
it  were  a  sin  to  sport  with  and  cast  away  amidst  the 
broken  rubbish  of  gone  passions!" 

He  turned  to  the  table,  and  wrote  the  order  of  ad- 
mission to  Henry's  prison,  and  as  he  gave  it  to  Sibyll, 
he  said,  "  Thy  young  gallant,  I  see,  is  at  the  court 
now.  It  is  a  perilous  ordeal,  and  especially  to  one  for 
whom  the  name  of  Nevile  opens  the  road  to  advance- 
ment and  honour.  Men  learn  betimes  in  courts  to  for- 
sake Love  for  Plutus,  and  many  a  wealthy  lord  would 
give  his  heiress  to  the  poorest  gentleman  who  claims 
kindred  to  the  Earl  of  Salisbury  and  Warwick." 

"  May  my  father's  guest  so  prosper,"  answered  Sib- 
yll, "for  he  seems  of  loyal  heart  and  gentle  nature!" 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  181 

"Thou  art  unselfish,  sweet  mistress,"  said  Hastings; 
and,  surprised  by  her  careless  tone,  he  paused  a  mo- 
ment, "or  art  thou,  in  truth,  indifferent?  Saw  I  not 
thy  hand  in  his,  when  even  those  loathly  tymbesteres 
chanted  warning  to  thee  for  loving,  not  above  thy 
merits,  but,  alas,  it  may  be,  above  thy  fortunes?  " 

Sibyll's  delight  increased.  Oh,  then,  he  had  not 
applied  that  hateful  warning  to  himself!  He  guessed 
not  her  secret.  She  blushed,  and  the  blush  was  so 
chaste  and  maidenly,  while  the  smile  that  went  with  it 
was  so  ineffably  animated  and  joyous,  that  Hastings 
exclaimed,  with  unaffected  admiration,  "  Surely,  fair 
donzell,  Petrarch  dreamed  of  thee,  when  he  spoke  of 
the  woman-blush  and  the  angel-smile  of  Laura.  Woe 
to  the  man  who  would  injure  thee.  Farewell !  I 
would  not  see  thee  too  often,  unless  I  saw  thee  ever." 

He  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips,  with  a  chivalrous  re- 
spect, as  he  spoke;  opened  the  door,  and  called  his 
page  to  attend  her  to  the  gates. 

Sibyll  was  more  flattered  by  the  abrupt  dismissal 
than  if  he  had  knelt  to  detain  her.  How  different 
seemed  the  world  as  her  light  step  wended  homeward ! 


CHAPTER   V 

MASTER  ADAM   WARNER  AND   KING  HENRY  THE  SIXTH 

The  next  morning  Hilyard  revisited  Warner,  with 
the  letters  for  Henry.  The  conspirator  made  Adam 
reveal  to  him  the  interior  mechanism  of  the  Eureka, 
to  which  Adam,  who  had  toiled  all  night,  had  append- 
ed one  of  the  most  ingenious  contrivances  he  had  as 
yet  been  enabled  (sans  the  diamond)  to  accomplish, 


1 82  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

for  the  better  display  of  the  agencies  which  the  engine 
was  designed  to  achieve.  This  contrivance  was  full  of 
strange  cells  and  recesses,  in  one  of  which  the  docu- 
ments were  placed.  And  there  they  lay,  so  well  con- 
cealed as  to  puzzle  the  minutest  search,  if  not  aided  by 
the  inventor,  or  one  to  whom  he  had  communicated 
the  secrets  of  the  contrivance. 

After  repeated  warnings  and  exhortations  to  discre- 
tion, Hilyard  then,  whose  busy,  active  mind  had  made 
all  the  necessary  arrangements,  summoned  a  stout- 
looking  fellow,  whom  he  had  left  below,  and,  with  his 
aid,  conveyed  the  heavy  machine  across  the  garden, 
to  a  back  lane,  where  a  mule  stood  ready  to  receive 
the  burden. 

"  Suffer  this  trusty  fellow  to  guide  thee,  dear  Adam ; 
he  will  take  thee  through  ways  where  thy  brutal  neigh- 
bours are  not  likely  to  meet  and  molest  thee.  Call  all 
thy  wits  to  the  surface.  Speed  and  prosper!  " 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Adam,  disdainfully.  "  In  the 
neighbourhood  of  kings,  science  is  ever  safe.  Bless 
thee,  child,"  and  he  laid  his  hand  upon  Sibyll's  head, 
for  she  had  accompanied  them  thus  far  in  silence — 
"  now  go  in." 

"  I  go  with  thee,  father,"  said  Sibyll,  firmly.  "  Mas- 
ter Hilyard,  it  is  best  so,"  she  whispered;  "  what  if  my 
father  fall  into  one  of  his  reveries!  " 

"  You  are  right :  go  with  him,  at  least,  to  the 
Tower-gate.  Hard  by,  is  the  house  of  a  noble  dame, 
and  a  worthy,  known  to  our  friend  Hugh,  where  thou 
mayest  wait  Master  Warner's  return.  It  will  not  suit 
thy  modesty  and  sex  to  loiter  amongst  the  pages  and 
soldiery  in  the  yard.  Adam,  thy  daughter  must  wend 
with  thee." 

Adam  had  not  attended  to  this  colloquy,  and  me- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  183 

chanically  bowing  his  head,  he  set  off,  and  was  greatly 
surprised,  on  gaining  the  river  side  (where  a  boat  was 
found  large  enough  to  accommodate  not  only  the 
human  passengers,  but  the  mule  and  its  burden),  to 
see  Sibyll  by  his  side. 

The  imprisonment  of  the  unfortunate  Henry,  though 
guarded  with  sufficient  rigour  against  all  chances  of 
escape,  was  not,  as  the  reader  has  perceived,  at  this 
period  embittered  by  unnecessary  harshness.  His  at- 
tendants treated  him  with  respect,  his  table  was  sup- 
plied more  abundantly  and  daintily  than  his  habitual 
abstinence  required,  and  the  monks  and  learned  men 
whom  he  had  favoured,  were,  we  need  not  repeat,  per- 
mitted to  enliven  his  solitude  with  their  grave  con- 
verse. 

On  the  other  hand,  all  attempts  at  correspondence 
between  Margaret,  or  the  exiled  Lancastrians  and  him- 
self, had  been  jealously  watched,  and  when  detected, 
the  emissaries  had  been  punished  with  relentless  sever- 
ity. A  man  named  Hawkins  had  been  racked  for  at- 
tempting to  borrow  money  for  the  queen  from  the 
great  London  merchant,  Sir  Thomas  Cook.  A  shoe- 
maker had  been  tortured  to  death,  with  red-hot  pincers, 
for  abetting  her  correspondence  with  her  allies.  Va- 
rious persons  had  been  racked  for  similar  offences,  but 
the  energy  of  Margaret,  and  the  zeal  of  her  adherents, 
were  still  unexhausted  and  unconquered. 

Either  unconscious  or  contemptuous  of  the  perils  to 
which  he  was  subjected,  the  student,  with  his  silent 
companions,  performed  the  voyage,  and  landed  in 
sight  of  the  Fortress-Palatine.  And  now  Hugh 
stopped  before  a  house  of  good  fashion,  knocked  at  the 
door,  which  was  opened  by  an  old  servitor,  disappeared 
for  a  few  moments,  and  returning,  informed  Sibyll,  in 


184  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

a  meaning  whisper,  that  the  gentlewoman  within  was 
a  good  Lancastrian,  and  prayed  the  donzell  to  rest  in 
her  company  till  Master  Warner's  return. 

Sibyll,  accordingly,  after  pressing  her  father's  hand 
without  fear — for  she  had  deemed  the  sole  danger 
Adam  risked  was  from  the  rabble  by  the  way — ful- 
lowed  Hugh  into  a  fair  chamber,  strewed  with  rushes, 
where  an  aged  dame,  of  noble  air  and  aspect,  was  em- 
ployed at  her  broidery  frame.  This  gentlewoman,  the 
widow  of  a  nobleman  who  had  fallen  in  the  service 
of  Henry,  received  her  graciously,  and  Hugh  then  re- 
tired to  complete  his  commission.  The  student,  the 
mule,  the  model,  and  the  porter,  pursued  their  way  to 
the  entrance  of  that  part  of  the  gloomy  palace  inhab- 
ited by  Henry.  Here  they  were  stopped,  and  Adam, 
after  rummaging  long  in  vain  for  the  chamberlain's 
passport,  at  last  happily  discovered  it,  pinned  to  his 
sleeve,  by  Sibyll's  forethought.  On  this  a  gentleman 
was  summoned  to  inspect  the  order,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments Adam  was  conducted  to  the  presence  of  the  il- 
lustrious prisoner. 

"  And  what,"  said  a  subaltern  officer,  lolling  by  the 
archway  of  the  (now  styled)  "  Bloody  Tower,"  hard  by 
the  turret  devoted  to  the  prisoner,*  and  speaking  to 
Adam's  guide,  who  still  mounted  guard  by  the  model, 
— "  what  may  be  the  precious  burden  of  which  thou 
art  the  convoy?  " 

"  Marry,  sir,"  said  Hugh,  who  spoke  in  the  strong 
Yorkshire  dialect,  which  we  are  obliged  to  render  into 
intelligible  English — "  marry,  I  weet  not, — it  is  some 
curious  puppet-box,  or  quiet  contrivance,  that  Master 
Warner,  whom  they  say  is  a  very  deft  and  ingenious 
personage,  is  permitted  to  bring  hither  for  the  Lord 
Henry's  diversion." 

*  The  Wakefield  Tower. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  185 

"  A  puppet-box !  "  said  the  officer,  with  much  ani- 
mated curiosity.  "  Fore  the  mass !  that  must  be  a 
pleasant  sight.  Lift  the  lid,  fellow !  " 

"  Please  your  honour,  I  do  not  dare,"  returned 
Hugh — "  I  but  obey  orders." 

"  Obey  mine,  then.  Out  of  the  way!  "  and  the  offi- 
cer lifted  the  lid  of  the  pannier  with  the  point  of  his 
dagger,  and  peeped  within.  He  drew  back,  much  dis- 
appointed— "Holy  mother!"  said  he,  "this  seemeth 
more  like  an  instrument  of  torture,  than  a  juggler's 
merry  device.  It  looks  parlous  ugly!  " 

"  Hush !  "  said  one  of  the  lazy  bystanders,  with 
whom  the  various  gateways  and  courts  of  the  palace- 
fortress  were  crowded,  "  hush! — thy  cap  and  thy  knee, 
sir!  " 

The  officer  started;  and,  looking  round,  perceived  a 
young  man  of  low  stature,  followed  by  three  or  four 
knights  and  nobles,  slowly  approaching  towards  the 
arch,  and  every  cap  in  the  vicinity  was  off,  and  every 
knee  bowed. 

The  eye  of  this  young  man  was  already  bent,  with 
a  searching  and  keen  gaze,  upon  the  motionless  mule, 
standing  patiently  by  the  Wakefield  Tower;  and  turn- 
ing from  the  mule  to  the  porter,  the  latter  shrunk,  and 
grew  pale,  at  that  dark,  steady,  penetrating  eye,  which 
seemed  to  pierce  at  once  into  the  secrets  and  hearts 
of  men. 

"Who  may  this  young  lord  be?"  he  whispered  to 
the  officer. 

"  Prince  Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  man,"  was 
the  answer.  "  Uncover,  varlet!  " 

"  Surely,"  said  the  prince,  pausing  by  the  gate, 
"  surely  this  is  no  sumpter-mule,  bearing  provisions  to 
the  Lord  Henry  of  Windsor.  It  would  be  but  poor 


1 86  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

respect  to  that  noble  person,  whom,  alas  the  day!  his 
grace  the  king  is  unwillingly  compelled  to  guard  from 
the  malicious  designs  of  rebels  and  mischief-seekers, 
that  one  not  bearing  the  king's  livery  should  attend 
10  any  of  the  needful  wants  of  so  worshipful  a  lord  and 
guest!  " 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  officer  at  the  gate,  "  one  Master 
Adam  Warner  hath  just,  by  permission,  been  conduct- 
ed to  the  Lord  Henry's  presence,  and  the  beast  beareth 
some  strange  and  grim-looking  device  for  my  lord's 
diversion." 

The  singular  softness  and  urbanity  which  generally 
characterised  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's  tone  and  bear- 
ing at  that  time, — which,  in  a  court  so  full  of  factions 
and  intrigues  made  him  the  enemy  of  none,  and  seem- 
ingly the  friend  of  all,  and,  conjoined  with  abilities 
already  universally  acknowledged,  had  given  to  his 
very  boyhood  a  pre-eminence  of  grave  repute  and  good 
opinion,  which,  indeed,  he  retained  till  the  terrible  cir- 
cumstances connected  with  his  accession  to  the  throne, 
under  the  bloody  name  of  Richard  the  Third,  roused 
all  men's  hearts  and  reasons  into  the  persuasion  that 
what  before  had  seemed  virtue  was  but  dissimulation; 
— this  singular  sweetness,  we  say,  of  manner  and  voice, 
had  in  it,  nevertheless,  something  that  imposed,  and 
thrilled,  and  awed.  And,  in  truth,  in  our  common  and 
more  vulgar  intercourse  with  life,  we  must  have  ob- 
served, that  where  external  gentleness  of  bearing  is  ac- 
companied by  a  repute  for  iron  will,  determined  reso- 
lution, and  a  serious,  profound,  and  all-inquiring 
intellect,  it  carries  with  it  a  majesty  wholly  distinct 
from  that  charm  which  is  exercised  by  one  whose  mild- 
ness of  nature  corresponds  with  the  outward  humility; 
and,  if  it  does  not  convey  the  notion  of  falseness,  bears 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  187 

the  appearance  of  that  perfect  self-possession,  that 
calm  'repose  of  power,  which  intimidates  those  it  influ- 
ences far  more  than  the  imperious  port  and  the  loud 
voice.  And  they  who  best  knew  the  duke,  knew  also 
that,  despite  this  general  smoothness  of  mien,  his  tem- 
perament was  naturally  irritable,  quick,  and  subject  to 
stormy  gusts  of  passion,  the  which  defects  his  admirers 
praised  him  for  labouring  hard  and  sedulously  to  keep 
in  due  control.  Still,  to  a  keen  observer,  the  consti- 
tutional tendencies  of  that  nervous  temperament  were 
often  visible,  even  in  his  blandest  moments — even 
when  his  voice  was  most  musical,  his  smile  most  gra- 
cious. If  something  stung,  or  excited  him,  an  uneasy 
gnawing  of  the  nether  lip,  a  fretful  playing  with  his 
dagger,  drawing  it  up  and  down  from  its  sheath,*  a 
slight  twitching  of  the  muscles  of  the  face,  and  a  quiver 
of  the  eyelid,  betokened  the  efforts  he  made  at  self- 
command;  and  now,  as  his  dark  eyes  rested  upon 
Hugh's  pale  countenance,  and  then  glanced  upon  the 
impassive  mule,  dozing  quietly  under  the  weight  of 
poor  Adam's  model,  his  hand  mechanically  sought  his 
dagger-hilt,  and  his  face  took  a  sinister  and  sombre 
expression. 

"  Thy  name,  friend?  " 

"  Hugh  Withers — please  you,  my  lord  duke." 

"  Um !  North  country,  by  thine  accent.  Dost  thou 
serve  this  Master  Warner?  " 

"  No,  my  lord,  I  was  only  hired  with  my  mule  to 
carry " 

"Ah!    true!    to  carry  what  thy  pannier  contains; 

open  it.     Holy  Paul!  a  strange  jonglerie  indeed!  This 

Master  Adam  Warner, — methinks,  I  have  heard  his 

name — a  learned  man — um — let  me  see  his  safe  con- 

*  Pol.  Virg.  565. 


188  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

duct.  Right — it  is  Lord  Hastings's  signature."  But 
still  the  prince  held  the  passport,  and  still  suspiciously 
eyed  the  Eureka  and  its  appliances,  which,  in  their 
complicated  and  native  ugliness  of  doors,  wheels,  pipes, 
and  chimney,  were  exposed  to  his  view.  At  this  mo- 
ment one  of  the  attendants  of  Henry  descended  the 
stairs  of  the  Wakefield  Tower,  with  a  request  that  the 
model  might  be  carried  up  to  divert  the  prisoner. 

Richard  paused  a  moment,  as  the  officer  hesitatingly 
watched  his  countenance  before  giving  the  desired  per- 
mission. But  the  prince,  turning  to  him,  and  smooth- 
ing his  brow,  said  mildly — "  Certes!  all  that  can  divert 
the  Lord  Henry  must  be  innocent  pastime.  And  I  am 
well  pleased  that  he  hath  this  cheerful  mood  for  recre- 
ation. It  gainsayeth  those  who  would  accuse  us  of 
rigour  in  his  durance.  Yes,  this  warrant  is  complete 
and  formal ;  "  and  the  prince  returned  the  passport  to 
the  officer,  and  walked  slowly  on  through  that  gloomy 
arch  ever  more  associated  with  Richard  of  Gloucester's 
memory,  and  beneath  the  very  room  in  which  our  be- 
lief yet  holds  that  the  infant  sons  of  Edward  IV. 
breathed  their  last;  still,  as  Gloucester  moved,  he 
turned  and  turned,  and  kept  his  eye  furtively  fixed 
upon  the  porter. 

"  Lovell,"  he  said  to  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  at- 
tended him,  and  who  was  among  the  few  admitted  to 
his  more  peculiar  intimacy — "  that  man  is  of  the 
north." 

"Well,  my  lord?" 

"  The  north  was  always  well  affected  to  the  Lancas- 
trians. Master  Warner  hath  been  accused  of  witch- 
craft. Marry,  I  should  like  to  see  his  device — urn; 
Master  Catesby,  come  hither  —  approach,  sir.  Go 
back,  and  the  instant  Adam  Warner  and  his  contriv- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  189 

ance  are  dismissed — bring  them  both  to  me  in  the 
king's  chamber.  Thou  understandest?  We  too  would 
see  his  device — and  let  neither  man  nor  mechanical, 
when  once  they  re-appear,  out  of  thine  eye's  reach. 
For  divers  and  subtle  are  the  contrivances  of  treason- 
able men!  " 

Catesby  bowed,  and  Richard,  without  speaking  fur- 
ther, took  his  way  to  the  royal  apartments,  which  lay 
beyond  the  White  Tower,  towards  the  river,  and  are 
long  since  demolished. 

Meanwhile  the  porter,  with  the  aid  of  one  of  the  at- 
tendants, had  carried  the  model  into  the  chamber  of 
the  august  captive.  Henry,  attired  in  a  loose  robe, 
was  pacing  the  room  with  a  slow  step,  and  his  head 
sunk  on  his  bosom, — while  Adam,  with  much  anima- 
tion, was  enlarging  on  the  wonders  of  the  contrivance 
he  was  about  to  show  him.  The  chamber  was  com- 
modious, and  furnished  with  sufficient  attention  to  the 
state  and  dignity  of  the  prisoner;  for  Edward,  though 
savage  and  relentless  when  his  blood  was  up,  never 
descended  into  the  cool  and  continuous  cruelty  of  de- 
tail. 

The  chamber  may  yet  be  seen;  its  shape  a  spacious 
octagon;  but  the  walls  now  rude  and  bare,  were  then 
painted  and  blazoned  with  scenes  from  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. The  door  opened  beneath  the  pointed  arch  in 
the  central  side  (not  where  it  now  does),  giving  en- 
trance from  a  small  ante-room,  in  which  the  visitor 
now  beholds  the  receptacle  for  old  rolls  and  papers. 
At  the  right,  on  entering,  where  now,  if  our  memory 
mistake  not,  is  placed  a  press,  stood  the  bed,  quaintly 
carved,  and  with  hangings  of  damascene.  At  the  far- 
ther end,  the  deep  recess  which  faced  the  ancient  door 
was  fitted  up  as  a  kind  of  oratory.  And  there  were  to 


190  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

be  seen,  besides  the  crucifix  and  the  mass-book,  a  pro- 
fusion of  small  vessels  of  gold  and  crystal,  containing 
the  relics,  supposed  or  real,  of  saint  and  martyr,  treas- 
ures which  the  deposed  king  had  collected  in  his  palm- 
ier days  at  a  sum  that,  in  the  minds  of  his  followers, 
had  been  better  bestowed  on  arms  and  war-steeds. 
A  young  man  named  Allerton — one  of  the  three  gen- 
tlemen personally  attached  to  Henry,  to  whom  Edward 
had  permitted  general  access,  and  who,  in  fact,  lodged 
in  other  apartments  of  the  Wakefield  Tower,  and 
might  be  said  to  share  his  captivity — was  seated  before 
a  table,  and  following  the  steps  of  his  musing  master, 
with  earnest  and  watchful  eyes. 

One  of  the  small  spaniels  employed  in  springing 
game — for  Henry,  despite  his  mildness,  had  been  fond 
of  all  the  sports  of  the  field — lay  curled  round  on  the 
floor,  but  started  up,  with  a  shrill  bark,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  bearer  of  the  model,  while  a  starling,  in  a  cage 
by  the  window,  seemingly  delighted  at  the  disturbance, 
flapped  his  wings,  and  screamed  out,  "  Bad  men ! — Bad 
world! — Poor  Henry!" 

The  captive  paused  at  that  cry,  and  a  sad  and  pa- 
tient smile  of  inexpressible  melancholy  and  sweetness 
hovered  over  his  lips.  Henry  still  retained  much  of 
the  personal  comeliness  he  possessed  at  the  time  when 
Margaret  of  Anjou,  the  theme  of  minstrel  and  minne- 
singer, left  her  native  court  of  poets  for  the  fatal  throne 
of  England.  But  beauty,  usually  so  popular  and  pre- 
cious a  gift  to  kings,  was  not  in  him  of  that  order  which 
commanded  the  eye  and  moved  the  admiration  of  a 
turbulent  people  and  a  haughty  chivalry.  The  features, 
if  regular,  were  small ;  their  expression  meek  and  timid  ; 
the  form,  though  tall,  was  not  firm-knit  and  muscular; 
the  lower  limbs  were  too  thin,  the  body  had  too  much 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  191 

flesh,  the  delicate  hands  betrayed  the  sickly  paleness 
of  feeble  health;  there  was  a  dreamy  vagueness  in  the 
clear  soft  blue  eyes,  and  a  listless  absence  of  all  energy 
in  the  habitual  bend,  the  slow,  heavy,  sauntering  tread 
— all  about  that  benevolent  aspect,  that  soft  voice,  that 
resigned  mien,  and  gentle  manner,  spoke  the  exquisite 
unresisting  goodness,  which  provoked  the  lewd  to 
taunt,  the  hardy  to  despise,  the  insolent  to  rebel: — for 
the  foes  of  a  king  in  stormy  times  are  often  less  his 
vices  than  his  virtues. 

"  And  now,  good  my  lord,"  said  Adam,  hastening, 
with  eager  hands,  to  assist  the  bearer  in  depositing  the 
model  on  the  table — "  now  will  I  explain  to  you  the 
contrivance  which  it  hath  cost  me  long  years  of  patient 
toil  to  shape  from  thought  into  this  iron  form." 

"  But  first,"  said  Allerton,  "  were  it  not  well  that 
these  good  people  withdrew?  A  contriver  likes  not 
others  to  learn  his  secret  ere  the  time  hath  come  to 
reap  its  profits." 

"  Surely — surely !  "  said  Adam,  and  alarmed  at  the 
idea  thus  suggested,  he  threw  the  folds  of  his  gown 
over  the  model. 

The  attendant  bowed  and  retired;  Hugh  followed 
him,  but  not  till  he  had  exchanged  a  significant  look 
with  Allerton. 

As  soon  as  the  room  was  left  clear  to  Adam,  the  cap- 
tive, and  Master  Allerton,  the  last  rose,  and  looking 
hastily  round  the  chamber,  approached  the  mecha- 
nician. "  Quick,  sir !  "  said  he  in  a  whisper,  "  we  are 
not  often  left  without  witnesses." 

"  Verily,"  said  Adam,  who  had  now  forgot  kings 
and  stratagems,  plots  and  counterplots,  and  was  all  ab- 
sorbed in  his  invention,  "  verily,  young  man,  hurry  not 
in  this  fashion — I  am  about  to  begin.  Know,  ray 


192  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

lord,"  and  he  turned  to  Henry,  who,  with  an  indolent, 
dreamy  gaze,  stood  contemplating  the  Eureka,  — 
"  know  that  more  than  a  hundred  years  before  the 
Christian  era,  one  Hero,  an  Alexandrian,  discovered 
the  force  produced  by  the  vapour  begot  by  heat  on 
water.  That  this  power  was  not  unknown  to  the  an- 
cient sages,  witness  the  contrivances,  not  otherwise  to 
be  accounted  for,  of  the  heathen  oracles;  but  to  our 
great  countryman  and  predecessor,  Roger  Bacon,  who 
first  suggested  that  vehicles  might  be  drawn  without 
steeds  or  steers,  and  ships  might " 

"  Marry,  sir,"  interrupted  Allerton,  with  great  im- 
patience, "  it  is  not  to  prate  to  us  of  such  trivial  fables 
of  Man,  or  such  wanton  sports  of  the  Foul  Fiend,  that 
thou  hast  risked  life  and  limb.  Time  is  precious.  I  have 
been  prevised  that  thou  hast  letters  for  King  Henry; 
produce  them — quick!  " 

A  deep  glow  of  indignation  had  overspread  the  en- 
thusiast's face  at  the  commencement  of  this  address; 
but  the  close  reminded  him,  in  truth,  of  his  errand. 

"  Hot  youth,"  said  he,  with  dignity,  "  a  future  age 
may  judge  differently  of  what  thou  deemest  trivial 
fables,  and  may  rate  high  this  poor  invention  when  the 
brawls  of  York  and  Lancaster  are  forgotten." 

"  Hear  him,"  said  Henry,  with  a  soft  smile,  and  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  young  man,  who 
was  about  to  utter  a  passionate  and  scornful  retort — 
"  Hear  him,  sir."  Have  I  not  often  and  ever  said  this 
same  thing  to  thee?  We  children  of  a  day  imagine 
our  contests  are  the  sole  things  that  move  the  world. 
Alack!  our  fathers  thought  the  same;  and  they  and 
their  turmoils  sleep  forgotten!  Nay,  Master  Warner," 
— for  here  Adam,  poor  man,  awed  by  Henry's  mild- 
ness into  shame  at  his  discourteous  vaunting,  began  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  193 

apologise, — "  nay,  sir,  nay — thou  art  right  to  contemn 
our  bloody  and  futile  struggles  for  a  crown  of  thorns : 

for 

"  Kingdoms  are  but  cares, 
State  is  devoid  of  stay; 
Riches  are  ready  snares, 
And  hasten  to  decay."  * 

And  yet,  sir,  believe  me,  thou  hast  no  cause  for  vain 
glory  in  thine  own  craft  and  labours ;  for  to  wit  and  to 
lere  there  are  the  same  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit 
as  to  war  and  empire.  Only,  O  would-be  wise  man, 
only  when  we  muse  on  Heaven,  do  our  souls  ascend 
from  the  fowler's  snare !  " 

"  My  saint-like  liege,"  said  Allerton,  bowing  low, 
and  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  thinkest  thou  not  that  thy 
very  disdain  of  thy  rights  makes  thee  more  worthy  of 
them?  If  not  for  thine,  for  thy  son's  sake — remember 
that  the  usurper  sits  on  the  throne  of  the  conqueror  of 
Agincourt! — Sir  Clerk,  the  letters." 

Adam,  already  anxious  to  retrieve  the  error  of  his 
first  forgetfulness,  here,  after  a  moment's  struggle  for 
the  necessary  remembrance,  drew  the  papers  from  the 
labyrinthine  receptacle  which  concealed  them;  and 
Henry  uttered'  an  exclamation  of  joy  as,  after  cutting 
the  silk,  his  eye  glanced  over  the  writing — 

"My  Margaret!  my  wife!"  Presently  he  grew 
pale,  and  his  hands  trembled.  "Saints  defend  her! — 
Saints  defend  her!  She  is  here,  disguised,  in  Lon- 
don!" 

"  Margaret!  our  hero-queen!  the  manlike  woman!  " 
exclaimed  Allerton,  clasping  his  hands — "  Then  be 

*  Lines  ascribed  to  Henry  VI.,  with  commendation  "  as  a 
prettie  verse,"  by  Sir  John  Harrington,  in  the  "  Nugae  An- 
tiquse."  They  are  also  given,  with  little  alteration,  to  the  un- 
happy king  by  Baldwin,  in  his  tragedy  of  "  King  Henry  VI." 

VOL.  I.— 13 


194  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

sure  that "  He  stopped,  and  abruptly  taking 

Adam's  arm,  drew  him  aside,  while  Henry  continued 
to  read — "  Master  Warner,  we  may  trust  thee — thou 
art  one  of  us — thou  art  sent  here,  I  know,  by  Robin  of 
Redesdale — we  may  trust  thee?" 

"  Young  sir,"  replied  the  philosopher,  gravely,  "  the 
fears  and  hopes  of  power  are  not  amidst  the  uneasier 
passions  of  the  student's  mind.  I  pledged  myself  but 
to  bear  these  papers  hither,  and  to  return  with  what 
may  be  sent  back." 

"  But  thou  didst  this  for  love  of  the  cause,  the  truth, 
and  the  right?" 

"  I  did  it  partly  from  Hilyard's  tale  of  wrong — but 
partly,  also,  for  the  gold,"  answered  Adam,  simply; 
and  his  noble  air,  his  high  brow,  the  serene  calm  of  his 
features,  so  contrasted  with  the  meanness  implied  in 
the  latter  words  of  his  confession,  that  Allerton  stared 
at  him  amazed,  and  without  reply. 

Meanwhile  Henry  had  concluded  the  letter,  and 
with  a  heavy  sigh  glanced  over  the  papers  that  accom- 
panied it. 

"Alack!  alack!  more  turbulence,  more  danger,  and 
disquiet — more  of  my  people's  blood !  "  He  motioned 
to  the  young  man,  and  drawing  him  to  the  window, 
while  Adam  returned  to  his  model,  put  the  papers  in 
his  hand.  "Allerton,"  he  said,  "thou  lovest  me,  but 
thou  art  one  of  the  few  in  this  distraught  land  who  love 
also  God.  Thou  art  not  one  of  the  warriors,  the  men 
of  steel.  Counsel  me.  See — Margaret  demands  my 
signature  to  these  papers;  the  one,  empowering  and 
craving  the  levy  of  men  and  arms  in  the  northern 
counties;  the  other,  promising  free  pardon  to  all  who 
will  desert  Edward;  the  third — it  seemeth  to  me  more 
strange  and  less  kinglike  than  the  others, — undertak- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  195 

ing  to  abolish  all  the  imposts  and  all  the  laws  that 
press  upon  the  commons,  and  (is  this  a  holy  and  pious 
stipulation?)  to  inquire  into  the  exactions  and  persecu- 
tions of  the  priesthood  of  our  Holy  Church ! " 

"Sire!"  said  the  young  man,  after  he  had  hastily 
perused  the  papers,  "  my  lady  liege  showeth  good  ar- 
gument for  your  assent  to  two,  at  least,  of  these  under- 
takings. See  the  names  of  fifty  gentlemen  ready  to 
take  arms  in  your  cause  if  authorised  by  your  royal 
warrant.  The  men  of  the  North  are  malcontent  with 
the  usurper,  but  they  will  not  yet  stir,  unless  at  your 
own  command.  Such  documents  will,  of  course,  be 
used  with  discretion,  and  not  to  imperil  your  grace's 
safety." 

"  My  safety!  "  said  Henry,  with  a  flash  of  his  father's 
hero-soul  in  his  eyes — "  of  that  I  think  not!  If  I  have 
small  courage  to  attack,  I  have  some  fortitude  to  bear. 
But,  three  months  after  these  be  signed,  how  many 
brave  hearts  will  be  still! — how  many  stout  hands  be 
dust!  O  Margaret!  Margaret!  why  temptest  thou? 
Wert  thou  so  happy  when  a  queen?" 

The  prisoner  broke  from  Allerton's  arm,  and  walked, 
in  great  disorder  and  irresolution,  to  and  fro  the  cham- 
ber; and  strange  it  was  to  see  the  contrast  between 
himself  and  Warner — both,  in  so  much  alike — both  so 
purely  creatures  out  of  the  common  world,  so  gentle 
— abstract — so  utterly  living  in  the  life  apart :  and  now, 
the  student  so  calm,  the  prince  so  disturbed!  The  con- 
trast struck  Henry  himself!  He  paused  abruptly, 
and,  folding  his  arms,  contemplated  the  philosopher, 
as,  with  an  affectionate  complacency,  Adam  played 
and  toyed,  as  it  were,  with  his  beloved  model;  now 
opening  and  shutting  again  its  doors — now  brushing 
away  with  his  sleeve  some  particles  of  dust  that  had 


196  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

settled  on  it — now  retiring  a  few  paces  to  gaze  the  bet- 
ter on  its  stern  symmetry. 

"  Oh,  my  Allerton !  "  cried  Henry,  "  behold !  the 
kingdom  a  man  makes  out  of  his  own  mind  is  the  only 
one  that  it  delighteth  man  to  govern!  Behold,  he  is 
lord  over  its  springs  and  movements;  its  wheels  re- 
volve and  stop  at  his  bidding.  Here,  here,  alone,  God 
never  asketh  the  ruler — '  Why  was  the  blood  of  thou- 
sands poured  forth  like  water,  that  a  worm  might  wear 
a  crown?' ' 

"  Sire,"  said  Allerton,  solemnly,  "  when  our  Heav- 
enly King  appoints  his  anointed  representative  on 
earth,  he  gives  to  that  human  delegate  no  power  to 
resign  the  ambassade  and  trust.  What  suicide  is  to  a 
man,  abdication  is  to  a  king!  How  canst  thou  dis- 
pose of  thy  son's  rights?  And  what  become  of  those 
rights  if  thou  wilt  prefer  for  him  the  exile — for  thyself, 
the  prison, — when  one  effort  may  restore  a  throne!  " 

Henry  seemed  struck  by  a  tone  of  argument  that 
suited  both  his  own  mind  and  the  reasoning  of  the  age. 
He  gazed  a  moment  on  the  face  of  the  young  man, 
muttered  to  himself,  and  suddenly  moving  to  the  table, 
signed  the  papers,  and  restored  them  to  Adam,  who 
mechanically  replaced  them  in  their  iron  hiding- 
place  : — 

"  Now  begone,  sir!  "  whispered  Allerton,  afraid  that 
Henry's  mind  might  again  change. 

"Will  not  my  lord  examine  the  engine?"  asked 
Warner,  half-beseechingly. 

"  Not  to-day !  See,  he  has  already  retired  to  his 
oratory — he  is  in  prayer!"  and,  going  to  the  door, 
Allerton  summoned  the  attendants  in  waiting  to  carry 
down  the  model. 

"  Well,   well — patience,   patience — thou    shalt   have 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  197 

thine  audience  at  last,"  muttered  Adam,  as  he  retired 
from  the  room,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  neglected  in- 
fant of  his  brain. 


CHAPTER  VI 

HOW,    ON    LEAVING    KING    LOG,    FOOLISH    WISDOM    RUNS 
A-MUCK   ON    KING   STORK 

At  the  outer,  door  of  the  Tower  by  which  he  had 
entered,  the  philosopher  was  accosted  by  Catesby — a 
man  who,  in  imitation  of  his  young  patron,  exhibited 
the  soft  and  oily  manner  which  concealed  intense  am- 
bition and  innate  ferocity. 

"  Worshipful,  my  master,"  said  he,  bowing  low,  but 
with  a  half  sneer  on  his  lips,  "  the  king  and  his  High- 
ness the  Duke  of  Gloucester  have  heard  much  of  your 
strange  skill,  and  command  me  to  lead  you  to  their 
presence.  Follow,  sir,  and  you,  my  men,  convey  this 
quaint  contrivance  to  the  king's  apartments." 

With  this,  not  waiting  for  any  reply,  Catesby  strode 
on.  Hugh's  face  fell — he  turned  very  pale,  and,  im- 
agining himself  unobserved,  turned  round  to  slink 
away.  But  Catesby,  who  seemed  to  have  eyes  at  the 
back  of  his  head,  called  out,  in  a  mild  tone — 

"  Good  fellow,  help  to  bear  the  mechanical — you, 
too,  may  be  needed." 

"Cog's  wounds!"  muttered  Hugh,  "an'  I  had  but 
known  what  it  was  to  set  my  foot  in  a  king's  palace! 
Such  walking  may  do  for  the  silken  shoon,  but  the 
hobnail  always  gets  into  a  hobble."  With  that,  affect- 
ing a  cheerful  mien,  he  helped  to  replace  the  model  on 
the  mule. 

Meanwhile,  Adam,  elated,  poor  man!  at  the  flattery 


198  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

of  the  royal  mandate,  persuaded  that  his  fame  had 
reached  Edward's  ears,  and  chafed  at  the  little  heed 
paid  by  the  pious  Henry  to  his  great  work,  stalked  on, 
his  head  in  the  air.  "  Verily,"  mused  the  student, 
"  King  Edward  may  have  been  a  cruel  youth,  and 
over  hasty;  it  is  horrible  to  think  of  Robin  Hilyard's 
calamities!  But  men  do  say  he  hath  an  acute  and 
masterly  comprehension.  Doubtless,  he  will  perceive 
at  a  glance  how  much  I  can  advantage  his  kingdom." 
With  this,  we  grieve  to  say,  selfish  reflection — which, 
if  the  thought  of  his  model  could  have  slept  awhile, 
Adam  would  have  blushed  to  recall,  as  an  affront  to 
Hilyard's  wrongs — the  philosopher  followed  Catesby 
across  the  spacious  yard,  along  a  narrow  passage,  and 
up  a  winding  turret-stair,  to  a  room  in  the  third  story, 
which  opened  at  one  door  into  the  king's  closet,  at  the 
other  into  the  spacious  gallery,  which  was  already  a 
feature  in  the  plan  of  the  more  princely  houses.  In 
another  minute  Adam  and  his  model  were  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  king.  The  part  of  the  room  in  which  Ed- 
ward sate  was  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  a  small 
eastern  carpet  on  the  floor  (a  luxury  more  in  use  in  the 
palaces  of  that  day  than  it  appears  to  have  been  a  cen- 
tury later);*  a  table  was  set  before  him,  on  which  the 
model  was  placed.  At  his  right  hand  sat  Jacquetta, 
Duchess  of  Bedford,  the  queen's  mother;  at  his  left, 
Prince  Richard.  The  duchess,  though  not  without 
the  remains  of  beauty,  had  a  stern,  haughty,  scornful 
expression,  in  her  sharp  aquiline  features,  compressed 
lips,  and  imperious  eye.  The  paleness  of  her  complex- 
ion, and  the  careworn  anxious  lines  of  her  counte- 
nance, were  ascribed  by  the  vulgar  to  studies  of  no 

*  See   the    Narrative   of   the   Lord    Grauthuse,    before   re- 
ferred to. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  199 

holy  cast.  Her  reputation  for  sorcery  and  witchcraft 
was  daily  increasing,  and  served  well  the  purpose  of 
the  discontented  barons,  whom  the  rise  of  her  chil- 
dren mortified  and  enraged. 

"  Approach,  Master What  say  you  his  name 

is,  Richard?" 

"  Adam  Warner,"  replied  the  sweet  voice  of  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  "  of  excellent  skill  in  the  mathe- 
matics." 

"  Approach,  sir,  and  show  us  the  nature  of  this  not- 
able invention." 

"  I  desire  nothing  better,  my  lord  king,"  said  Adam, 
boldly.  "  But  first,  let  me  crave  a  small  modicum  of 
fuel.  Fire,  which  is  the  life  of  the  world,  as  the  wise 
of  old  held  it,  is  also  the  soul  of  this — my  mechanical." 

"  Peradventure,"  whispered  the  duchess,  "  the  wiz- 
ard desireth  to  consume  us!  " 

"  More  likely,"  replied  Richard,  in  the  same  under- 
tone, "  to  consume  whatever  of  treasonable  nature  may 
lurk  concealed  in  his  engine." 

"  True,"  said  Edward,  and  then,  speaking  aloud, 
"  Master  Warner,"  he  added,  "  put  thy  puppet  to  its 
purpose — without  fire; — we  will  it." 

"  It  is  impossible,  my  lord,"  said  Adam,  with  a  lofty 
smile.  "  Science  and  nature  are  more  powerful  than 
a  king's  word." 

"  Do  not  say  that  in  public,  my  friend,"  said  Edward 
drily,  "or  we  must  hang  thee!  I  would  not  my  sub- 
jects were  told  anything  so  treasonable.  Howbeit,  to 
give  thee  no  excuse  in  failure,  thou  shalt  have  what 
thou  needest." 

"  But  surely  not  in  our  presence,"  exclaimed  the 
duchess.  "  This  may  be  a  device  of  the  Lancastrians 
for  our  perdition." 


200  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"As  you  please,  belle  mere,"  said  Edward,  and  he 
motioned  to  a  gentleman,  who  stood  a  few  paces  be- 
hind his  chair,  and  who,  from  the  entrance  of  the 
mechanician,  had  seemed  to  observe  him  with  intense 
interest.  "Master  Nevile,  attend  this  wise  man;  sup- 
ply his  wants,  and  hark,  in  thy  ear,  watch  well  that  he 
abstract  nothing  from  the  womb  of  his  engine — ob- 
serve what  he  doeth — be  all  eyes."  Marmaduke 
bowed  low  to  conceal  his  change  of  countenance,  and, 
stepping  forward,  made  a  sign  to  Adam  to  follow  him. 

"  Go  also,  Catesby,"  said  Richard  to  his  follower, 
who  had  taken  his  post  near  him,  "  and  clear  the  cham- 
ber." 

As  soon  as  the  three  members  of  the  royal  family 
were  left  alone,  the  king,  stretching  himself,  with  a 
slight  yawn,  observed,  "  This  man  looks  not  like  a 
conspirator,  brother  Richard,  though  his  sententiary 
as  to  nature  and  science  lacked  loyalty  and  respect." 

"  Sire  and  brother,"  answered  Richard,  "  great  lead- 
ers often  dupe  their  own  tools;  at  least,  meseemeth 
that  they  would  reason  well  so  to  do.  Remember,  I 
have  told  thee  that  there  is  strong  cause  to  suppose 
Margaret  to  be  in  London.  In  the  suburbs  of  the  city 
has  also  appeared,  within  the  last  few  weeks,  that 
strange  and  dangerous  person,  whose  very  objects  are 
a  mystery,  save  that  he  is  our  foe, — Robin  of  Redes- 
dale.  The  men  of  the  North  have  exhibited  a  spirit 
of  insurrection;  a  man  of  that  country  attends  this  re- 
puted wizard,  and  he  himself  was  favoured  in  past 
times  by  Henry  of  Windsor.  These  are  ominous 
signs  when  the  conjunctions  be  considered!  " 

"It  is  well  said;  but  a  fair  day  for  breathing  our 
palfrey  is  half  spent !  "  returned  the  indolent  prince. 
"  By'r  lady!  I  like  the  fashion  of  thy  supertunic  well, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  201 

Richard;  but  thou  hast  it  too  much  puffed  over  the 
shoulders." 

Richard's  dark  eye  shot  fire,  and  he  gnawed  his  lip 
as  he  answered — "  God  hath  not  given  to  me  the  fair 
shape  of  my  kinsmen!" 

"  Thy  pardon,  dear  boy,"  said  Edward,  kindly;  "  yet 
little  needest  T.iou  our  broad  backs  and  strong  sinews, 
for  thou  hast  a  tongue  to  charm  women,  and  a  wit  to 
command  men." 

Richard  bowed  his  face,  little  less  beautiful  than  his 
brother's,  though  wholly  different  from  it  in  feature, 
for  Edward  had  the  long  oval  countenance,  the  fair 
hair,  the  rich  colouring,  and  the  large  outline  of  his 
mother,  the  Rose  of  Raby.  Richard,  on  the  contrary, 
had  the  short  face,  the  dark  brown  locks,  and  the  pale 
olive  complexion  of  his  father,  whom  he  alone  of  the 
royal  brothers  strikingly  resembled.*  The  cheeks, 
too,  were  somewhat  sunken,  and  already,  though 
scarcely  past  childhood,  about  his  lips  were  seen  the 
lines  of  thoughtful  manhood.  But  then  those  small 
features,  delicately  aquiline,  were  so  regular — that  dark 
eye  was  so  deep,  so  fathomless  in  its  bright  musing  in- 
telligence— that  quivering  lip  was  at  once  so  beauti- 
fully formed  and  so  expressive  of  intellectual  subtlety 
and  haughty  will — and  that  pale  forehead  was  so  mas- 
sive, high,  and  majestic,  that  when,  at  a  later  period, 
the  Scottish  prelate  f  commended  Richard's  "  princely 

*  Pol.  Virg.  544. 

t  Archibald  Quhitlaw. — "  Faciem  tuam  summo  imperio  prin- 
cipatu  dignam  inspicit,  quam  moralis  et  heroica,  virtus  illus- 
trat,"  &c. — We  need  scarcely  observe  that  even  a  Scotchman 
would  not  have  risked  a  public  compliment  to  Richard's  face, 
if  so  inappropriate  as  to  seem  a  sarcasm,  especially  as  the 
orator  immediately  proceeds  to  notice  the  shortness  of  Rich- 
ard's stature — a  comment  not  likely  to  have  been  peculiarly 
acceptable.  In  the  Rous  Roll,  the  portrait  of  Richard  repre- 


202  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

countenance"  the  compliment  was  not  one  to  be  dis- 
puted, much  less  contemned.  But  now  as  he  rose, 
obedient  to  a  whisper  from  the  duchess,  and  followed 
her  to  the  window,  while  Edward  appeared  engaged 
in  admiring  the  shape  of  his  own  long  upturned  shoes, 
those  defects  in  his  shape  which  the  popular  hatred  and 
the  rise  of  the  House  of  Tudor  exaggerated  into  the 
absolute  deformity,  that  the  unexamining  ignorance 
of  modern  days,  and  Shakespeare's  fiery  tragedy,  have 
fixed  established  caricature,  were  sufficiently  apparent. 
Deformed  or  hunchbacked,  we  need  scarcely  say  he 
was  not,  for  no  man  so  disfigured  could  have  possessed 
that  great  personal  strength  which  he  invariably  ex- 
hibited in  battle,  despite  the  comparative  slightness  of 
his  frame.  He  was  considerably  below  the  ordinary 
height,  which  the  great  stature  of  his  brother  ren- 
dered yet  more  disadvantageous  by  contrast,  but  his 
lower  limbs  were  strong-jointed  and  muscular. 
Though  the  back  was  not  curved,  yet  one  shoulder  was 
slightly  higher  than  the  other,  which  was  the  more 
observable  from  the  evident  pains  that  he  took  to  dis- 
guise it,  and  the  gorgeous  splendour,  savouring  of  per- 
sonal coxcombry — from  which  no  Plantagenet  was 
ever  free, — that  he  exhibited  in  his  dress.  And  as,  in 
a  warlike  age,  the  physical  conformation  of  men  is  al- 
ways critically  regarded,  so  this  defect,  and  that  of  his 
low  stature,  were  not  so  much  redeemed  as  they  would 
be  in  our  day  by  the  beauty  and  intelligence  of  his  face. 
Added  to  this,  his  neck  was  short,  and  a  habit  of  bend- 
ing his  head  on  his  bosom  (arising  either  from  thought, 
or  the  affectation  of  humility,  which  was  a  part  of  his 

sents  him  as  undersized,  but  compactly  and  strongly  built,  and 
without  any  sign  of  deformity,  unless  the  inelegant  defect  of 
a  short  neck  can  be  so  called. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  203 

character),  made  it  seem  shorter  still.  But  this  pecu- 
liarity, while  taking  from  the  grace,  added  to  the 
strength  of  his  frame,  which,  spare,  sinewy,  and  com- 
pact, showed  to  an  observer  that  power  of  endurance 
• — that  combination  of  solid  stubbornness  and  active 
energy,  which,  at  the  battle  of  Barnet,  made  him  no 
less  formidable  to  encounter  than  the  ruthless  sword 
of  the  mighty  Edward. 

"  So,  prince,"  said  the  duchess,  "  this  new  gentle- 
man of  the  king's  is,  it  seems,  a  Nevile.  When  will 
Edward's  high  spirit  cast  off  that  hateful  yoke?" 

Richard  sighed  and  shook  his  head.  The  duch- 
ess, encouraged  by  these  signs  of  sympathy,  contin- 
ued— 

"  Your  brother  Clarence,  Prince  Richard,  despises 
us,  to  cringe  to  the  proud  earl.  But  you " 

"  I  am  not  suitor  to  the  Lady  Isabel ;  Clarence  is 
overlavish,  and  Isabel  has  a  fair  face  and  a  queenly 
dowry." 

"  May  I  perish,"  said  the  duchess,  "  ere  Warwick's 
daughter  wears  the  baudekin  of  royalty,  and  sits  in  as 
high  a  state  as  the  queen's  mother!  Prince,  I  would 
fain  confer  with  thee;  we  have  a  project  to  abase  and 
banish  this  hateful  lord.  If  you  but  join  us,  success 
is  sure;  the  Count  of  Charolois " 

"  Dear  lady,"  interrupted  Richard,  with  an  air  of 
profound  humility,  "  tell  me  nothing  of  plot  or  proj- 
ect; my  years  are  too  few  for  such  high  and  subtle 
policy;  and  the  Lord  Warwick  hath  been  a  leal  friend 
to  our  House  of  York." 

The  duchess  bit  her  lip — "  Yet  I  have  heard  you  tell 
Edward  that  a  subject  can  be  too  powerful?" 

"  Never,  lady !  you  have  never  heard  me." 

"  Then  Edward  has  told  Elizabeth  that  you  so 
spoke." 


204  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"Ah!"  said  Richard,  turning  away  with  a  smile; 
"  I  see  that  the  king's  conscience  hath  a  discreet 
keeper.  Pardon  me.  Edward,  now  that  he  hath  suf- 
ficiently surveyed  his  shoon,  must  marvel  at  this  pro- 
longed colloquy.  And  see,  the  door  opens." 

With  this,  the  duke  slowly  moved  to  the  table,  and 
resumed  his  seat. 

Marmaduke,  full  of  fear  for  his  ancient  host,  had  in 
vain  sought  an  opportunity  to  address  a  few  words  of 
exhortation  to  him  to  forbear  all  necromancy,  and  to 
abstain  from  all  perilous  distinctions  between  the  power 
of  Edward  IV.  and  that  of  his  damnable  Nature  and 
Science;  but  Catesby  watched  him  with  so  feline  a 
vigilance,  that  he  was  unable  to  slip  in  more  than — 
"  Ah,  Master  Warner,  for  our  blessed  Lord's  sake, 
recollect  that  rack  and  cord  are  more  than  mere  words 
here!"  To  the  which  pleasant  remark,  Adam,  then 
busy  in  filling  his  miniature  boiler,  only  replied  by  a 
wistful  stare,  not  in  the  least  recognising  the  Nevile 
in  his  fine  attire,  and  the  new-fashioned  mode  of  dress- 
ing his  long  hair. 

But  Catesby  watched  in  vain  for  the  abstraction  of 
any  treasonable  contents  in  the  engine,  which  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester  had  so  shrewdly  suspected.  The 
truth  must  be  told.  Adam  had  entirely  forgotten  that 
in  the  intricacies  of  his  mechanical  lurked  the  papers 
that  might  overthrow  a  throne!  Magnificent  Incar- 
nation was  he  (in  that  oblivion)  of  Science  itself,  which 
cares  not  a  jot  for  men  and  nations,  in  their  ephemeral 
existences;  which  only  remembers  THINGS — things 
that  endure  for  ages ;  and  in  its  stupendous  calculations 
loses  sight  of  the  unit  of  a  generation!  No — he  had 
thoroughly  forgotten  Henry,  Edward,  his  own  limbs 
and  life — not  only  York  and  Lancaster,  but  Adam 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  205 

Warner  and  the  rack.  Grand  in  his  forgetfulness,  he 
stood  before  the  tiger  and  the  tiger-cat — Edward  and 
Richard — A  Pure  Thought — a  Man's  Soul;  Science 
fearless  in  the  presence  of  Cruelty,  Tyranny,  Craft,  and 
Power. 

In  truth,  now  that  Adam  was  thoroughly  in  his  own 
sphere — was  in  the  domain  of  which  fie  was  king,  and 
those  beings  in  velvet  and  ermine  were  but  as  ignorant 
savages  admitted  to  the  frontier  of  his  realm,  his  form 
seemed  to  dilate  into  a  majesty  the  beholders  had  not 
before  recognised.  And  even  the  lazy  Edward  mut- 
tered, involuntarily, — "  By  my  halidame,  the  man  has 
a  noble  presence!  " 

"  I  am  prepared  now,  sire,"  said  Adam  loftily,  "  to 
show  to  my  king  and  to  his  court,  that,  unnoticed  and 
obscure,  in  study  and  retreat,  often  live  those  men 
whom  kings  may  be  proud  to  call  their  subjects.  Will 
it  please  you,  my  lords,  this  way!  "  and  he  motioned  so 
commandingly  to  the  room  in  which  he  had  left  the 
Eureka,  that  his  audience  rose  by  a  common  impulse, 
and  in  another  minute  stood  grouped  round  the  model 
in  the  adjoining  chamber.  This  really  wonderful  in- 
vention— so  wonderful,  indeed,  that  it  will  surpass  the 
faith  of  those  who  do  not  pause  to  consider  what  vast 
forestallments  of  modern  science  have  been  made  and 
lost  in  the  darkness  of  ages  not  fitted  to  receive  them, 
— was,  doubtless,  in  many  important  details,  not  yet 
adapted  for  the  practical  uses  to  which  Adam  designed 
its  application.  But  as  a  mere  model,  as  a  marvellous 
essay,  for  the  suggestion  of  gigantic  results,  it  was, 
perhaps,  to  the  full  as  effective  as  the  ingenuity  of  a 
mechanic  of  our  own  day  could  construct.  It  is  true 
that  it  was  crowded  with  unnecessary  cylinders,  slides, 
cocks,  and  wheels — hideous  and  clumsy  to  the  eye — 


206  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

but  through  this  intricacy  the  great  simple  design  ac- 
complished its  main  object.  It  contrived  to  show 
what  force  and  skill  man  can  obtain  from  the  alliance 
of  nature;  the  more  clearly,  inasmuch  as  the  mechan- 
ism affixed  to  it,  still  more  ingenious  than  itself,  was 
well  calculated  to  illustrate  practically  one  of  the  many 
uses  to  which  the  principle  was  destined  to  be  applied. 

Adam  had  not  yet  fathomed  the  secret  by  which  to 
supply  the  miniature  cylinder  with  sufficient  steam  for 
any  prolonged  effect,  the  great  truth  of  latent  heat  was 
unknown  to  him;  but  he  had  contrived  to  regulate  the 
supply  of  water  so  as  to  make  the  engine  discharge  its 
duties  sufficiently  for  the  satisfaction  of  curiosity,  and 
the  explanation  of  its  objects.  And  now  this  strange 
thing  of  iron  was  in  full  Hfe.  From  its  serpent  chim- 
ney issued  the  thick  rapid  smoke,  and  the  groan  of 
its  travail  was  heard  within. 

"  And  what  propose  you  to  yourself  and  to  the  king- 
dom, in  all  this,  Master  Adam?  "  asked  Edward,  curi- 
ously bending  his  tall  person  over  the  tortured  iron. 

"  I  propose  to  make  Nature  the  labourer  of  man," 
answered  Warner.  "  When  I  was  a  child  of  some 
eight  years  old,  I  observed  that  water  swelleth  into 
vapour  when  fire  is  applied  to  it.  Twelve  years  after- 
wards, at  the  age  of  twenty,  I  observed  that  while 
undergoing  this  change,  it  exerts  a  mighty  mechanical 
force.  At  twenty-five,  constantly  musing,  I  said, 
'  Why  should  not  that  force  become  subject  to  man's 
art?  '  I  then  began  the  first  rude  model,  of  which  this 
is  the  descendant.  I  noticed  that  the  vapour  so  pro- 
duced is  elastic — that  is,  that  as  it  expands,  it  presses 
against  what  opposes  it ;  it  has  a  force  applicable  every- 
where force  is  needed  by  man's  labour.  Behold  a 
second  agency  of  gigantic  resources.  And  then,  still 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  207 

studying  this,  I  perceived  that  the  vapour  thus  pro- 
duced can  be  reconverted  into  water,  shrinking  neces- 
sarily, while  so  retransformed,  from  the  space  it  filled 
as  vapour,  and  leaving  that  space  a  vacuum.  But 
Nature  abhors  a  vacuum — produce  a  vacuum,  and  the 
bodies  that  surround  rush  into  it.  Thus,  the  vapour 
again,  while  changing  back  into  water,  becomes  also 
a  force — our  agent.  And  all  the  while  these  truths 
were  shaping  themselves  to  my  mind,  I  was  devising 
and  improving  also  the  material  form  by  which  I 
might  render  them  useful  to  man;  so  at  last,  out  of 
these  truths,  arose  this  invention!" 

"  Pardie,"  said  Edward,  with  the  haste  natural  to 
royalty,  "  what  in  common  there  can  be  between  thy 
jargon  of  smoke  and  water  and  this  huge  ugliness  of 
iron  passeth  all  understanding.  But  spare  us  thy 
speeches,  and  on  to  thy  puppet-show." 

Adam  stared  a  moment  at  the  king  in  the  surprise 
that  one  full  of  his  subject  feels  when  he  sees  it  impos- 
sible to  make  another  understand  it,  sighed,  shook  his 
head,  and  prepared  to  begin. 

"  Observe,"  he  said,  "  that  there  is  no  juggling,  no 
deceit.  I  will  place  in  this  deposit  this  small  lump  of 
brass — would  the  size  of  this  toy  would  admit  of  larger 
experiment!  I  will  then  pray  ye  to  note,  as  I  open 
door  after  door,  how  the  metal  passes  through  various 
changes,  all  operated  by  this  one  agency  of  vapour. 
Heed  and  attend.  And  if  the  crowning  work  please 
thee,  think,  great  king,  what  such  an  agency  upon  the 
large  scale  would  be  to  thee;  think  how  it  would  mul- 
tiply all  arts,  and  lessen  all  labour;  think  that  thou  hast, 
in  this,  achieved  for  a  whole  people  the  true  philoso- 
pher's stone.  Now,  note!" 

He  placed  the  rough  ore  in  its  receptacle,  and  sud- 


208  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

denly  it  seemed  seized  by  a  vice  within,  and  vanished. 
He  proceeded  then,  while  dexterously  attending  to  the 
complex  movements,  to  open  door  after  door,  to  show 
the  astonished  spectators  the  rapid  transitions  the 
metal  underwent,  and  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  his 
pride,  he  stopped  short,  for,  like  a  lightning-flash,  came 
across  his  mind  the  remembrance  of  the  fatal  papers. 
Within  the  next  door  he  was  to  open,  they  lay  con- 
cealed. His  change  of  countenance  did  not  escape 
Richard,  and  he  noted  the  door  which  Adam  forbore 
to  open,  as  the  student  hurriedly,  and  with  some  pres- 
ence of  mind,  passed  to  the  next,  in  which  the  metal  was 
shortly  to  appear. 

"  Open  this  door,"  said  the  prince,  pointing  to  the 
handle. 

"No! — forbear!  There  is  danger! — forbear!"  ex- 
claimed the  mechanician. 

"  Danger  to  thine  own  neck,  varlet  and  impostor!  " 
exclaimed  the  duke;  and  he  was  about  himself  to 
open  the  door,  when  suddenly  a  loud  roar — a  terrific 
explosion  was  heard.  Alas!  Adam  Warner  had  not 
yet  discovered  for  his  engine  what  we  now  call  the 
safety  valve.  The  steam  contained  in  the  miniature 
boiler  had  acquired  an  undue  pressure;  Adam's  atten- 
tion had  been  too  much  engrossed  to  notice  the  signs 
of  the  growing  increase,  and  the  rest  may  be  easily 
conceived.  Nothing  could  equal  the  stupor  and  hor- 
ror of  the  spectators  at  this  explosion,  save  only  the 
boy-duke,  who  remained  immovable,  and  still  frown- 
ing. All  rushed  to  the  door,  huddling  one  on  the 
other,  scarcely  knowing  what  next  was  to  befall  them ; 
but  certain  that  the  wizard  was  bent  upon  their  de- 
struction. Edward  was  the  first  to  recover  himself; 
and  seeing  that  no  lives  were  lost,  his  first  impulse  was 
that  of  ungovernable  rage. 


209 

"Foul  traitor!  "  he  exclaimed,  "was  it  for  this  that 
thou  hast  pretended  to  beguile  us  with  thy  damnable 
sorceries!  Seize  him!  Away  to  the  Tower-hill!  .and 
let  the  priest  patter  an  ave,  while  the  doomsman  knots 
the  rope." 

Not  a  hand  stirred;  even  Catesby  would  as  lief  have 
touched  the  king's  lion  before  meals,  as  that  poor 
mechanician,  standing  aghast,  and  unheeding  all,  be- 
side his  mutilated  engine. 

"  Master  Nevile,"  said  the  king,  sternly,  "  dost  thou 
hear  us?" 

"  Verily,"  muttered  the  Nevile,  approaching  very 
slowly,  "  I  knew  what  would  happen;  but  to  lay  hands 
on  my  host,  an'  he  were  fifty  times  a  wizard — No! 
My  liege,"  he  said  in  a  firm  tone,  but  falling  on  his 
knee,  and  his  gallant  countenance  pale  with  generous 
terror — "  My  liege,  forgive  me.  This  man  succoured 
me  when  struck  down  and  wounded  by  a  Lancastrian 
ruffian — this  man  gave  me  shelter,  food,  and  healing. 
Command  me  not,  O  gracious  my  lord,  to  aid  in  tak- 
ing the  life  of  one  to  whom  I  owe  my  own." 

"His  life!"  exclaimed  the  Duchess  of  Bedford — 
"the  life  of  this  most  illustrious  person!  Sire,  you 
do  not  dream  it!  " 

"Heh!  by  the  saints,  what  now?"  cried  the  king, 
whose  choler,  though  fierce  and  ruthless,  was  as  short- 
lived as  the  passions  of  the  indolent  usually  are,  and 
whom  the  earnest  interposition  of  his  mother-in-law 
much  surprised  and  diverted.  "  If,  fair  belle  mere, 
thou  thinkest  it  so  illustrious  a  deed  to  frighten  us  out 
of  our  mortal  senses,  and  narrowly  to  'scape  sending 
us  across  the  river  like  a  bevy  of  balls  from  a  bom- 
bard, there  is  no  disputing  of  tastes.  Rise  up,  Master 
Nevile,  we  esteem  thee  not  less  for  thy  boldness;  ever 
VOL.  I. — 14 


210  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

be  the  host  and  the  benefactor  revered  by  English  gen- 
tleman and  Christian  youth.  Master  Warner  may  go 
free." 

Here  Warner  uttered  so  deep  and  hollow  a  groan, 
that  it  startled  all  present. 

"  Twenty-five  years  of  labour,  and  not  to  have  seen 
this!  "  he  ejaculated.  "  Twenty  and  five  years,  and  all 
wasted!  How  repair  this  disaster.  O  fatal  day!" 

"  What  says  he  ? — what  means  he  ?  "  said  Jacquetta. 

"Come  home! — home!"  said  Marmaduke,  ap- 
proaching the  philosopher,  in  great  alarm  lest  he 
should  once  more  jeopardise  his  life.  But  Adam, 
shaking  him  off,  began  eagerly,  and  with  tremulous 
hands,  to  examine  the  machine,  and  not  perceiving 
any  mode  by  which  to  guard  in  future  against  a  danger 
that  he  saw  at  once  would,  if  not  removed,  render  his 
invention  useless,  tottered  to  a  chair,  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands. 

"  He  seemeth  mightily  grieved  that  our  bones  are 
still  whole!"  muttered  Edward.  "And  why,  belle 
mere  mine,  wouldst  thou  protect  this  pleasant  trege- 
tourf  " 

"What!"  said  the  duchess — "see  you  not  that  a 
man  capable  of  such  devices  must  be  of  doughty  ser- 
vice against  our  foes?" 

"Not  I— how?" 

"  Why,  if  merely  to  signify  his  displeasure  at  our 
young  Richard's  over-curious  meddling,  he  can  cause 
this  strange  engine  to  shake  the  walls — nay,  to  destroy 
itself,  think  what  he  might  do  were  his  power  and  mal- 
ice at  our  disposing.  I  know  something  of  these  nig- 
romancers." 

"And  would  you  knew  less!  for  already  the  Com- 
mons murmur  at  your  favour  to  them.  But  be  it  as 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  21  i 

you  will.  And  now — ho,  there! — let  our  steeds  be 
caparisoned." 

"  You  forget,  sire,"  said  Richard,  who  had  hitherto 
silently  watched  the  various  parties,  "  the  object  for 
which  we  summoned  this  worthy  man.  Please  you 
now,  sir,  to  open  that  door." 

"  No — no !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  hastily,  "  I  will 
have  no  more  provoking  the  foul  fiend — conspirator 
or  not,  I  have  had  enough  of  Master  Warner.  Pah! 
My  poor  placard  is  turned  lampblack.  Sweet  mother- 
in-law,  take  him  under  thy  protection;  and  Richard, 
come  with  me." 

So  saying,  the  king  linked  his  arm  in  that  of  the 
reluctant  Gloucester,  and  quitted  the  room.  The 
duchess  then  ordered  the  rest  also  to  depart,  and  was 
left  alone  with  the  crest-fallen  philosopher. 


CHAPTER   VII 

MY  LADY  DUCHESS'S  OPINION  OF  THE  UTILITY  OF  MAS- 
TER WARNER'S  INVENTION,  AND  HER  ESTEEM  FOR  ITS 
— EXPLOSION  ! 

Adam,  utterly  unheeding,  or  rather  deaf  to,  the  dis- 
cussion that  had  taken  place,  and  his  narrow  escape 
from  cord  and  gibbet,  lifted  his  head  peevishly  from 
his  bosom,  as  the  duchess  rested  her  hand  almost  ca- 
ressingly on  his  shoulder,  and  thus  addressed  him : — 

"  Most  puissant  sir,  think  not  that  I  am  one  of  those, 
who,  in  their  ignorance  and  folly,  slight  the  mysteries 
of  which  thou  art  clearly  so  great  a  master.  When  I 
heard  thee  speak  of  subjecting  Nature  to  Man,  I  at 
once  comprehended  thee,  and  blushed  for  the  dulness 
of  my  kindred." 


212  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"Ah!  lady,  thou  hast  studied,  then,  the  mathemat- 
ics. Alack!  this  is  a  grievous  blow;  but  it  is  no  in- 
herent fault  in  the  device.  I  am  clearly  of  mind  that 
it  can  be  remedied.  But  oh!  what  time  —  what 
thought — what  sleepless  nights — what  gold  will  be 
needed!" 

"  Give  me  thy  sleepless  nights  and  thy  grand 
thoughts,  and  thou  shalt  not  want  gold." 

"  Lady,"  cried  Adam,  starting  to  his  feet,  "  do  I 
hear  aright?  Art  thou,  in  truth,  the  patron  I  have  so 
long  dreamed  of?  Hast  thou  the  brain  and  the 
heart  to  aid  the  pursuits  of  science?  " 

"  Ay!  and  the  power  to  protect  the  students!  Sage, 
I  am  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  whom  men  accuse  of 
witchcraft — as  thee  of  wizardy.  From  the  wife  of  a 
private  gentleman,  I  have  become  the  mother  of  a 
queen.  I  stand  amidst  a  court  full  of  foes;  I  desire 
gold  to  corrupt,  and  wisdom  to  guard  against,  and 
means  to  destroy,  them.  And  I  seek  all  these  in  men 
like  thee!" 

Adam  turned  on  her  his  bewildered  eyes,  and  made 
no  answer. 

"  They  tell  me,"  said  the  duchess,  "  that  Henry  of 
Windsor  employed  learned  men  to  transmute  the  baser 
metals  into  gold.  Wert  thou  one  of  them?  " 

"  No." 

"  Thou  knowest  that  art?  " 

"  I  studied  it  in  my  youth,  but  the  ingredients  of  the 
crucible  were  too  costly." 

"  Thou  shalt  not  lack  them  with  me — thou  knowest 
the  lore  of  the  stars,  and  canst  foretell  the  designs  of 
enemies — the  hour  whether  to  act  or  to  forbear?  " 

"  Astrology  I  have  studied,  but  that  also  was  in 
youth,  for  there  dwelleth  in  the  pure  mathematics  that 
have  led  me  to  this  invention " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  213 

"  Truce  with  that  invention,  whatever  it  be — think 
of  it  no  more,  it  has  served  its  end  in  the  explosion, 
which  proved  thy  power  of  mischief — high  objects  are 
now  before  thee.  Wilt  thou  be  of  my  household,  one 
of  my  alchemists  and  astrologers?  Thou  shalt  have 
leisure,  honour,  and  all  the  moneys  thou  canst  need." 

"Moneys!"  said  Adam,  eagerly,  and  casting  his 
eyes  upon  the  mangled  model — "  well,  I  agree — what 
you  will — alchemist,  astrologist,  wizard — what  you 
will.  This  shall  all  be  repaired — all — I  begin  to  see 
now — ah!  I  begin  to  see — yes,  if  a  pipe  by  which  the 
too-excessive  vapour  could — ay,  ay! — right,  right," 
and  he  rubbed  his  hands. 

Jacquetta  was  struck  with  his  enthusiasm — "  But 
surely,  Master  Warner,  this  has  some  virtue  you  have 
not  vouchsafed  to  explain; — confide  in  me — can  it 
change  iron  to  gold?" 

"  No— but " 

"  Can  it  predict  the  future?  " 

«  No— but " 

"  Can  it  prolong  life?  " 

"  No— but " 

"Then  in  God's  name  let  us  waste  no  more  time 
about  it !  "  said  the  duchess,  impatiently — "  your  art  is 
mine  now.  Ho,  there! — I  will  send  my  page  to  con- 
duct thee  to  thy  apartments,  and  thou  shalt  lodge  next 
to  Friar  Bungey,  a  man  of  wondrous  lere,  Master 
Warner,  and  a  worthy  confrere  in  thy  researches. 
Hast  thou  any  one  of  kith  and  kin  at  home,  to  whom 
thou  wilt  announce  thy  advancement  ?  " 

"Ah,  lady!  Heaven  forgive  me,  I  have  a  daughter 
— an  only  child — my  Sibyll,  I  cannot  leave  her  alone, 
and " 

"  Well,  nothing  should  distract  thy  cares  from  thine 


214  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

art — she  shall  be  sent  for. — I  will  rank  her  amongst 
my  maidens.  Fare-thee-well,  Master  Warner!  At 
night  I  will  send  for  thee,  and  appoint  the  tasks  I 
would  have  thee  accomplish." 

So  saying,  the  duchess  quitted  the  room,  and  left 
Adam  alone,  bending  over  his  model  in  deep  reverie. 

From  this  absorption  it  was  the  poor  man's  fate  to 
be  again  aroused. 

The  peculiar  character  of  the  boy-prince  of  Glouces- 
ter was  that  of  one  who,  having  once  seized  upon  an 
object,  never  willingly  relinquished  it.  First  he  crept 
and  slid,  and  coiled  round  it  as  the  snake.  But  if  craft 
failed,  his  passion,  roused  by  resistance,  sprang  at  his 
prey  with  a  lion's  leap:  and  whoever  examines  the  ca- 
reer of  this  extraordinary  personage,  will  perceive,  that 
whatever  might  be  his  habitual  hypocrisy,  he  seemed 
to  lose  sight  of  it  wholly,  when  once  resolved  upon 
force.  Then  the  naked  ferocity  with  which  the  de- 
structive propensity  swept  away  the  objects  in  his  path 
becomes  fearfully  and  startlingly  apparent,  and  offers  a 
strange  contrast  to  the  wily  duplicity  with  which,  in 
calmer  moments,  he  seems  to  have  sought  to  coax  the 
victim  into  his  folds.  Firmly  convinced  that  Adam's 
engine  had  been  made  the  medium  of  dangerous  and 
treasonable  correspondence  with  the  royal  prisoner, 
and,  of  that  suspicious,  restless,  feverish  temperament, 
which  never  slept  when  a  fear  was  wakened,  a  doubt 
conceived,  he  had  broke  from  his  brother,  whose  more 
open  valour  and  less  unquiet  intellect  were  ever  will- 
ing to  leave  the  crown  defended  but  by  the  gibbet  for 
the  detected  traitor — the  sword  for  the  declared  foe; 
and  obtaining  Edward's  permission  "  to  inquire  fur- 
ther into  these  strange  matters,"  he  sent  at  once  for  the 
porter  who  had  conveyed  the  model  to  the  Tower;  but 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  215 

that  suspicious  accomplice  was  gone.  The  sound  of 
the  explosion  of  the  engine  had  no  less  startled  the 
guard  below  than  the  spectators  above.  Releasing 
their  hold  of  their  prisoner,  they  had  some  taken  fair- 
ly to  their  heels,  others  rushed  into  the  palace  to  learn 
what  mischief  had  ensued;  and  Hugh,  with  the  quick 
discretion  of  his  north  country,  had  not  lost  so  favour- 
able an  opportunity  for  escape.  There  stood  the  doz- 
ing mule  at  the  door  below,  but  the  guide  was 
vanished.  More  confirmed  in  his  suspicions  by  this  dis- 
appearance of  Adam's  companion,  Richard,  giving 
some  preparatory  orders  to  Catesby,  turned  at  once  to 
the  room  which  still  held  the  philosopher  and  his 
device.  He  closed  the  door  on  entering,  and  his  brow 
was  dark  and  sinister  as  he  approached  the  musing  in- 
mate. But  here  we  must  return  to  Sibyll. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE     OLD     WOMAN     TALKS     OF     SORROWS THE     YOUNG 

WOMAN     DREAMS     OF     LOVE THE     COURTIER      FLIES 

FROM    PRESENT    POWER    TO    REMEMBRANCES    OF    PAST 

HOPES AND    THE    WORLD-BETTERER    OPENS    UTOPIA, 

WITH    A   VIEW   OF  THE   GIBBET   FOR   THE   SILLY    SAGE 

HE  HAS  SEDUCED  INTO  HIS  SCHEMES SO,   EVER  AND 

EVERMORE,   RUNS  THE  WORLD  AWAY! 

The  old  lady  looked  up  from  her  embroidery-frame, 
as  Sibyll  sat  musing  on  a  stool  before  her ;  she  scanned 
the  maiden  with  a  wistful  and  somewhat  melancholy 
eye. 

"  Fair  girl,"  she  said,  breaking  a  silence  that  had 
lasted  for  some  moments,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have 


216  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

seen  thy  face  before.     Wert  thou  never  in  Queen 
Margaret's  court?" 

"  In  childhood,  yes,  lady." 

"  Do  you  not  remember  me,  the  dame  of  Longue- 
ville  ?  " 

Sibyll  started  in  surprise,  and  gazed  long  before  she 
recognised  the  features  of  her  hostess ;  for  the  dame 
of  Longueville  had  been  still,  when  Sibyll  was  a  child 
at  the  court,  renowned  for  matronly  beauty,  and  the 
change  was  greater  than  the  lapse  of  years  could  ac- 
count for.  The  lady  smiled  sadly :  "  Yes,  you  marvel 
to  see  me  thus  bent  and  faded.  Maiden,  I  lost  my 
husband  at  the  battle  of  St.  Alban's,  and  my  three 
sons  in  the  field  of  Teuton.  My  lands  and  my  wealth 
have  been  confiscated  to  enrich  new  men ;  and  to  one 
of  them — one  of  the  enemies  of  the  only  king  whom 
Alice  de  Longueville  will  acknowledge,  I  owe  the  food 
for  my  board,  and  the  roof  for  my  head.  Do  you 
marvel  now  that  I  am  so  changed  ?  " 
•  Sibyll  rose  and  kissed  the  lady's  hand,  and  the  tear 
that  sparkled  on  its  surface  was  her  only  answer. 

"  I  learn,"  said  the  dame  of  Longueville,  "  that 
your  father  has  an  order  from  the  Lord  Hastings  to 
see  King  Henry.  I  trust  that  he  will  rest  here  as  he 
returns,  to  tell  me  how  the  monarch-saint  bears  his 
afflictions.  But  I  know :  his  example  should  console 
us  all."  She  paused  a  moment,  and  resumed,  "  Sees 
your  father  much  of  the  Lord  Hastings  ?  " 

"  He  never  saw  him  that  I  weet  of,"  answered 
Sibyll,  blushing ;  "  the  order  was  given,  but  as  of  usual 
form  to  a  learned  scholar." 

"  But  given  to  whom  ?  "  persisted  the  lady. 

"  To — to  me,"  replied  Sibyll,  falteringly. 

The  dame  of  Longueville  smiled^ 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  217 

"  Ah !  Hastings  could  scarcely  say  no  to  a  prayer 
from  such  rosy  lips.  But  let  me  not  imply  aught  to 
disparage  his  humane  and  gracious  heart.  To  Lord 
Hastings,  next  to  God  and  His  saints,  I  owe  all  that  is 
left  to  me  on  earth.  Strange,  that  he  is  not  yet  here. 
This  is  the  usual  day  and  hour  on  which  he  conies, 
from  pomp  and  pleasurement,  to  visit  the  lonely 
widow."  And,  pleased  to  find  an  attentive  listener 
to  her  grateful  loquacity,  the  dame  then  proceeded, 
with  warm  eulogies  upon  her  protector,  to  inform 
Sibyll  that  her  husband  had,  in  the  first  outbreak  of 
the  Civil  War,  chanced  to  capture  Hastings,  and, 
moved  by  his  valour  and  youth,  and  some  old  con- 
nections with  his  father,  Sir  Leonard  had  favoured 
his  escape  from  the  certain  death  that  awaited  him 
from  the  wrath  of  the  relentess  Margaret.  After  the 
field  of  Touton,  Hastings  had  accepted  one  of  the 
manors  confiscated  from  the  attainted  House  of 
Longueville,  solely  that  he  might  restore  it  to  the 
widow  of  the  fallen  lord ;  and,  with  a  chivalrous  con- 
sideration, not  contented  with  beneficence,  he  omit- 
ted no  occasion  to  show  to  the  noblewoman  whatever 
homage  and  respect  might  soothe  the  pride,  which, 
in  the  poverty  of  those  who  have  been  great,  becomes 
disease.  The  loyalty  of  the  Lady  Longueville  was 
carried  to  a  sentiment  most  rare  in  that  day,  and 
rather  resembling  the  devotion  inspired  by  the  later 
Stuarts.  She  made  her  home  within  the  precincts  of 
the  Tower,  that,  morning  and  eve,  when  Henry 
opened  his  lattice  to  greet  the  rising  and  the  setting 
sun,  she  might  catch  a  dim  and  distant  glance  of  the 
captive  king,  or  animate,  by  that  sad  sight,  the  hopes 
and  courage  of  the  Lancastrian  emissaries,  to  whom, 
fearless  of  danger,  she  scrupled  not  to  give  counsel, 
and,  at  need,  asylum. 


2i8  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

While  Sibyll,  with  enchanted  sense,  was  listening 
to  the  praise  of  Hastings,  a  low  knock  at  the  door 
was  succeeded  by  the  entrance  of  that  nobleman  him- 
self. Not  to  Elizabeth,  in  the  alcoves  of  Shene,  or  on 
the  dais  of  the  palace  hall,  did  the  graceful  courtier 
bend  with  more  respectful  reverence  than  to  the  pow- 
erless widow,  whose  very  bread  was  his  alms,  for  the 
true  high-breeding  of  chivalry  exists  not  without  deli- 
cacy of  feeling,  formed  originally  by  warmth  of  heart ; 
and  though  the  warmth  may  lose  its  glow,  the  delicacy 
endures,  as  the  steel,  that  acquires  through  heat  its 
polish,  retains  its  lustre,  even  when  the  shine  but  be- 
trays the  hardness. 

"  And  how  fares  my  noble  lady  of  Longueville  ? 
But  need  I  ask?  for  her  cheek  still  wears  the  rose  of 
Lancaster.  A  companion  ?  Ha  !  Mistress  Warner,  I 
learn  now  how  much  pleasure  exists  in  surprise! " 

"  My  young  visitor,"  said  the  dame,  "  is  but  an  old 
friend ;  she  was  one  of  the  child-maidens  reared  at 
the  court  of  Queen  Margaret." 

"  In  sooth !  "  exclaimed  Hastings ;  and  then,  in  an 
altered  tone,  he  added,  "  but  I  should  have  guessed 
so  much  grace  had  not  come  all  from  nature.  And 
your  father  has  gone  to  see  the  Lord  Henry,  and  you 
rest,  here,  his  return?  Ah  noble  lady!  may  you  har- 
bour always  such  innocent  Lancastrians." 

The  fascinations  of  this  eminent  person's  voice  and 
manner  were  such,  that  it  soon  restored  Sibyll  to  the 
ease  she  had  lost  at  his  sudden  entrance.  He  con- 
versed gaily  with  the  old  dame  upon  such  matters  of 
court  anecdote  as  in  all  the  changes  of  state  were  still 
welcome  to  one  so  long  accustomed  to  court  air;  but 
from  time  to  time  he  addressed  himself  to  Sibyll,  and 
provoked  replies  which  startled  herself — for  she  was 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  219 

not  yet  well  aware  of  her  own  gifts — by  their  spirit 
and  intelligence. 

"  You  do  not  tell  us,"  said  the  Lady  Longueville, 
sarcastically,  "  of  the  happy  spousailles  of  Elizabeth's 
brother  with  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk — a  bachelor  of 
twenty,  a  bride  of  some  eighty-two.*  Verily,  these 
alliances  are  new  things  in  the  history  of  English  roy- 
alty. But  when  Edward,  who,  even  if  not  a  rightful 
king,  is  at  least  a  born  Plantagenet,  condescended  to 
marry  Mistress  Elizabeth,  a  born  Woodville,  scarce 
of  good  gentleman's  blood,  nought  else  seems  strange 
enough  to  provoke  marvel." 

"  As  to  the  last  matter,"  returned  Hastings,  grave- 
ly, "  though  her  grace  the  queen  be  no  warm  friend 
to  me,  I  must  needs  become  her  champion  and  the 
king's.  The  lady  who  refused  the  dishonouring  suit 
of  the  fairest  prince  and  the  boldest  knight  in  the 
Christian  world,  thereby  made  herself  worthy  of  the 
suit  that  honoured  her;  it  was  not  Elizabeth  Wood- 
ville alone  that  won  the  purple.  On  the  day  she 
mounted  a  throne,  the  chastity  of  woman  herself  was 
crowned." 

"  What ! "  said  the  Lady  Longueville  angrily, 
"  mean  you  to  say  that  there  is  no  disgrace  in  the  mal- 
alliance  of  kite  and  falcon — of  Plantagenet  and  Wood- 
ville— of  high-born  and  mud-descended  ?  " 

"  You  forget,  lady,  that  the  widow  of  Henry  the 
Fifth,  Catharine  of  Valois,  a  king's  daughter,  married 
the  Welsh  soldier,  Owen  Tudor — that  all  England 
teems  with  brave  men  born  from  similar  spousailles, 
where  love  has  levelled  all  distinctions,  and  made  a 

*  The  old  chronicler  justly  calls  this  a  "  diabolical  mar- 
riage." It  greatly  roused  the  wrath  of  the  nobles,  and  indeed 
of  all  honourable  men,  as  a.  proof  of  the  shameless  avarice  of 
the  queen's  family. 


220  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

purer  hearth,  and  raised  a  bolder  offspring,  than  the 
lukewarm  likings  of  hearts  that  beat  but  for  lands  and 
gold.  Wherefore,  lady,  appeal  not  to  me,  a  squire 
of  dames,  a  believer  in  the  old  Parliament  of  LOVE  ; — 
whoever  is  fair  and  chaste,  gentle  and  loving,  is,  in 
the  eyes  of  William  De  Hastings,  the  mate  and  equal 
of  a  king !  " 

Sibyll  turned  involuntarily  as  the  courtier  spoke 
thus,  with  animation  in  his  voice,  and  fire  in  his  eyes ; 
she  turned,  and  her  breath  came  quick;  she  turned, 
and  her  look  met  his,  and  those  words  and  that  look 
sank  deep  into  her  heart;  they  called  forth  brilliant 
and  ambitious  dreams ;  they  rooted  the  growing  love, 
but  they  aided  to  make  it  holy ;  they  gave  to  the  de- 
licious fancy  what  before  it  had  not  paused,  on  its 
wing,  to  sigh  for ;  they  gave  it  that  without  which  all 
fancy,  sooner  or  later,  dies ;  they  gave  it  that  which, 
once  received  in  a  noble  heart,  is  the  excuse  for  untir- 
ing faith ;  they  gave  it — HOPE  ! 

"  And  thou  wouldst  say,"  replied  the  lady  of 
Longueville,  with  a  meaning  smile,  still  more  em- 
phatically— "  thou  wouldst  say  that  a  youth,  brave  and 
well  nurtured,  ambitious  and  loving,  ought,  in  the 
eyes  of  rank  and  pride,  to  be  the  mate  and  equal 
of " 

"  Ah,  noble  dame,"  interrupted  Hastings,  quickly ; 
"  I  must  not  prolong  encounter  with  so  sharp  a  wit. 
Let  me  leave  that  answer  to  this  fair  maiden,  for,  by 
rights,  it  is  a  challenge  to  her  sex,  not  to  mine." 

"  How  say  you,  then,  Mistress  Warner ! "  said  the 
dame.  "  Suppose  a  young  heiress,  of  the  loftiest 
birth,  of  the  broadest  lands,  of  the  comeliest  form — 
suppose  her  wooed  by  a  gentleman,  poor  and  station- 
less,  but  with  a  mighty  soul,  born  to  achieve  greatness, 
would  she  lower  herself  by  hearkening  to  his  suit  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  221 

"  A  maiden,  methinks,"  answered  Sibyll,  with  re- 
luctant but  charming  hesitation,  "  cannot  love  truly, 
if  she  love  unworthily;  and  if  she  love  worthily,  it  is 
not  rank  nor  wealth  she  loves." 

"  But  her  parents,  sweet  mistress,  may  deem  differ- 
ently; and  should  not  her  love  refuse  submission  to 
their  tyranny  ?  "  asked  Hastings. 

"  Nay,  good  my  lord,  nay,"  returned  Sibyll,  shak- 
ing her  head  with  thoughtful  demureness.  "  Surely 
the  wooer,  if  he  love  worthily,  will  not  press  her  to 
the  curse  of  a  child's  disobedience  and  a  parent's 
wrath !  " 

"  Shrewdly  answered,"  said  the  dame  of  Longue- 
ville. 

'  Then  she  would  renounce  the  poor  gentleman  if 
the  parent  ordain  her  to  marry  a  rich  lord.  Ah,  you 
hesitate,  for  a  woman's  ambition  is  pleased  with  the 
excuse  of  a  child's  obedience." 

Hastings  said  this  so  bitterly,  that  Sibyll  could  not 
but  perceive  that  some  personal  feeling  gave  signifi- 
cance to  his  words.  Yet  how  could  they  be  applied 
to  him, — to  one  now  in  rank  and  repute  equal  to  the 
highest  below  the  throne? 

"  If  the  demoiselle  should  so  choose,"  said  the 
dame  of  Longueville,  "  it  seemeth  to  me  that  the  re- 
jected suitor  might  find  it  facile  to  disdain  and  to 
forget." 

Hastings  made  no  reply ;  but  that  remarkable  and 
deep  shade  of  melancholy  which  sometimes  in  his 
gayest  hours  startled  those  who  beheld  it,  and  which 
had,  perhaps,  induced  many  of  the  prophecies  that 
circulated,  as  to  the  untimely  and  violent  death  that 
should  close  his  bright  career,  gathered  like  a  cloud 
over  his  brow.  At  this  moment  the  door  opened 


222  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

gently,  and  Robert  Hilyard  stood  at  the  aperture.  He 
was  clad  in  the  dress  of  a  friar,  but  the  raised  cowl 
showed  his  features  to  the  lady  of  Longueville,  to 
whom  alone  he  was  visible;  and  those  bold  features 
were  literally  haggard  with  agitation  and  alarm.  He 
lifted  his  finger  to  his  lips,  and  motioning  the  lady  to 
follow  him,  closed  the  door. 

The  dame  of  Longueville  rose,  and  praying  her  vis- 
itors to  excuse  her  absence  for  a  few  moments,  she 
left  Hastings  and  Sibyll  to  themselves. 

"  Lady,"  said  Hilyard,  in  a  hollow  whisper  as  soon 
as  the  dame  appeared  in  the  low  hall,  communicating 
on  one  hand  with  the  room  just  left,  on  the  other  with 
the  street, — "  I  fear  all  will  be  detected.  Hush ! 
Adam  and  the  iron  coffer  that  contains  the  precious 
papers  have  been  conducted  to  Edward's  presence. 
A  terrible  explosion,  possibly  connected  with  the  con- 
trivance, caused  such  confusion  among  the  guards, 
that  Hugh  escaped  to  scare  me  with  his  news.  Sta- 
tioned near  the  gate  in  this  disguise,  I  ventured  to 
enter  the  court-yard,  and  saw  —  saw — the  TOR- 
MENTOR ! — the  torturer — the  hideous,  masked  minis- 
ter of  agony,  led  towards  the  chambers  in  which  our 
hapless  messenger  is  examined  by  the  ruthless  ty- 
rants. Gloucester,  the  lynx-eyed  mannikin,  is  there !  " 

"  O  Margaret,  my  queen !  "  exclaimed  the  lady  of 
Longueville,  "  the  papers  will  reveal  her  where- 
about." 

"  No — she  is  safe !  "  returned  Hilyard  ;  "  but  thy 
poor  scholar,  I  tremble  for  him,  and  for  the  heads  of 
all  whom  the  papers  name." 

"  What  can  be  done !  Ha !  Lord  Hastings  is  here 
— he  is  ever  humane  and  pitiful.  Dare  we  confide  in 
him?" 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  223 

A  bright  gleam  shot  over  Hilyard's  face.  "  Yes — 
yes ;  let  me  confer  with  him  alone.  I  wait  him  here 
—quick !  " 

The  lady  hastened  back.  Hastings  was  convers- 
ing in  a  low  voice  with  Sibyll.  The  dame  of  Longue- 
ville  whispered  in  the  courtier's  ear,  drew  him  into 
the  hall,  and  left  him  alone  with  the  false  friar,  who 
had  drawn  the  cowl  over  his  face. 

"  Lord  Hastings,"  said  Hilyard,  speaking  rapidly, 
"  you  are  in  danger,  if  not  of  loss  of  life,  of  loss  of 
favour.  You  gave  a  passport  to  one  Warner  to  see 
the  ex-king  Henry.  Warner's  simplicity  (for  he  is 
innocent)  hath  been  duped — he  is  made  the  bearer 
of  secret  intelligence  from  the  unhappy  gentlemen 
who  still  cling  to  the  Lancaster  cause.  He  is  sus- 
pected,— he  is  examined — he  may  be  questioned  by 
the  torturer.  If  the  treason  be  discovered,  it  was  thy 
hand  that  signed  the  passport — the  queen,  thou  know- 
est,  hates  thee — the  Woodvilles  thirst  for  thy  down- 
fall. What  handle  may  this  give  them !  Fly,  my 
lord — fly  to  the  Tower — thou  mayst  yet  be  in  time — 
thy  wit  can  screen  all  that  may  otherwise  be  bare. 
Save  this  poor  scholar — conceal  this  correspondence. 
— Hark  ye,  lord !  frown  not  so  haughtily — that  cor- 
respondence names  thee  as  one  who  has  taken  the 
gold  of  Count  Charolois,  and  whom,  therefore,  King 
Louis  may  outbuy.  Look  to  thyself !  " 

A  slight  blush  passed  over  the  pale  brow  of  the 
great  statesman,  but  he  answered  with  a  steady  voice, 
"  Friar  or  layman,  I  care  not  which,  the  gold  of  the 
heir  of  Burgundy  was  a  gift,  not  a  bribe.  But  I  need 
no  threats  to  save,  if  not  too  late,  from  rack  and  gib- 
bet, the  life  of  a  guiltless  man.  I  am  gone.  Hold ! 
bid  the  maiden,  the  scholar's  daughter,  follow  me  to 
the  Tower." 


224  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 


CHAPTER  IX 

HOW    THE    DESTRUCTIVE    ORGAN    OF    PRINCE    RICHARD 
PROMISES    GOODLY   DEVELOPMENT 

The  Duke  of  Gloucester  approached  Adam  as  he 
stood  gazing  on  his  model.  "  Old  man,"  said  the 
prince,  touching  him  with  the  point  of  his  sheathed 
dagger,  "  look  up  and  answer.  What  converse  hast 
thou  held  with  Henry  of  Windsor,  and  who  commis- 
sioned thee  to  visit  him  in  his  confinement?  Speak, 
and  the  truth!  for  by  holy  Paul,  I  am  one  who  can 
detect  a  lie,  and  without  that  door  stands — the  Tor- 
mentor !  " 

Upon  a  pleasing  and  joyous  dream  broke  these 
harsh  words ;  for  Adam  then  was  full  of  the  contriv- 
ance by  which  to  repair  the  defect  of  the  engine ;  and 
with  this  suggestion  was  blent  confusedly  the  thought, 
that  he  was  now  protected  by  royalty,  that  he  should 
have  means  and  leisure  to  accomplish  his  great  de- 
sign, that  he  should  have  friends  whose  power  could 
obtain  its  adoption  by  the  king.  He  raised  his  eyes, 
and  that  young  dark  face  frowned  upon  him — the 
child  menacing  the  sage — brute  force  in  a  pigmy 
shape,  having  authority  of  life  and  death  over  the 
giant  strength  of  genius.  But  these  words,  which  re- 
called Warner  from  his  existence  as  philosopher, 
woke  that  of  the  gentle  but  brave  and  honourable  man 
which  he  was,  when  reduced  to  earth. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  if  I  have  consented  to  hold 
converse  with  the  unhappy,  it  was  not  as  the  tell-tale 
and  the  espier.  I  had  formal  warrant  for  my  visit, 
and  I  was  solicited  to  render  it  by  an  early  friend  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  225 

comrade,  who  sought  to  be  my  benefactor  in  aiding 
with  gold  my  poor  studies  for  the  king's  people." 

"  Tut !  "  said  Richard,  impatiently,  and  playing  with 
his  dagger  hilt ;  "  thy  words,  stealthy  and  evasive, 
prove  thy  guilt !  Sure  am  I  that  this  iron  traitor,  with 
its  intricate  hollows  and  recesses,  holds  what,  unless 
confessed,  will  give  thee  to  the  hangman!  Confess 
all,  and  thou  art  spared." 

"  If,"  said  Adam,  mildly,  "  your  highness — for 
though  I  know  not  your  quality,  I  opine  that  no  one 
less  than  royal  could  so  menace ;  if  your  highness  im- 
agines that  I  have  been  intrusted  by  a  fallen  man, 
wrong  me  not  by  supposing  that  I  could  fear  death 
more  than  dishonour ;  for  certes !  "  (continued  Adam, 
with  innocent  pedantry)  "  to  put  the  case  scholastical- 
ly,  and  in  the  logic  familiar,  doubtless,  to  your  high- 
ness, either  I  have  something  to  confess,  or  I  have 
not — if  I  have " 

"  Hound !  "  interrupted  the  prince,  stamping  his 
foot,  "  thinkest  thou  to  banter  me — see !  "  As  his 
foot  shook  the  floor,  the  door  opened,  and  a  man  with 
his  arms  bare,  covered  from  head  to  foot  in  a  black 
gown  of  serge,  with  his  features  concealed  by  a  hid- 
eous mask,  stood  ominously  at  the  aperture. 

The  prince  motioned  to  the  torturer  (or  tormentor, 
as  he  was  technically  styled)  to  approach,  which  he 
did  noiselessly,  till  he  stood,  tall,  grim,  and  lowering, 
beside  Adam,  like  some  silent  and  devouring  monster 
by  its  prey. 

"  Dost  thou  repent  thy  contumacy  ?  —  A  moment, 
and  I  render  my  questioning  to  another ! " 

"  Sir,"  said  Adam,  drawing  himself  up,  and  with  so 
udden  a  change  of  mien,  that  his  loftiness  almost 
awed  even  the  dauntless  Richard — "  Sir,  my  fathers 
YOL.  I.— 15 


226  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

feared  not  death  when  they  did  battle  for  the  throne 
of  England  ;  and  why  ? — because  in  their  loyal  valour 
they  placed  not  the  interests  of  a  mortal  man,  but  the 
cause  of  imperishable  honour!  And  though  their 
son  be  a  poor  scholar,  and  wears  not  the  spurs  of  gold 
— though  his  frame  be  weak  and  his  hairs  grey,  he 
loveth  honour  also  well  eno'  to  look  without  dread 
on  death !  " 

Fierce  and  ruthless,  when  irritated  and  opposed,  as 
the  prince  was,  he  was  still  in  his  first  youth — am- 
bition had  here  no  motive  to  harden  him  into  stone. 
He  was  naturally  so  brave  himself  that  bravery  could 
not  fail  to  win  from  him  something  of  respect  and 
sympathy,  and  he  was  taken  wholly  by  surprise  in 
hearing  the  language  of  a  knight  and  hero  from  one 
whom  he  had  regarded  but  as  the  artful  impostor  or 
the  despicable  intriguer. 

He  changed  countenance  as  Warner  spoke,  and 
remained  a  moment  silent.  Then  as  a  thought  oc- 
curred to  him,  at  which  his  features  relaxed  into  a 
half-smile — he  beckoned  to  the  tormentor — said  a 
word  in  his  ear — and  the  horrible  intruder  nodded  and 
withdrew. 

"  Master  Warner,"  then  said  the  prince,  in  his  cus- 
tomary sweet  and  gliding  tones — "  it  were  a  pity  that 
so  gallant  a  gentleman  should  be  exposed  to  peril  for 
adhesion  to  a  cause  that  can  never  prosper,  and  that 
would  be  fatal,  could  it  prosper,  to  our  common  coun- 
try. For  look  you,  this  Margaret,  who  is  now,  we 
believe,  in  London "  (here  he  examined  Adam's 
countenance,  which  evinced  surprise),  "  this  Marga- 
ret, who  is  seeking  to  rekindle  the  brand  and  brennen 
of  civil  war,  has  already  sold  for  base  gold,  to  the 
enemy  of  the  realm,  to  Louis  XL,  that  very  Calais 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  227 

which  your  fathers,  doubtless,  lavished  their  blood  to 
annex  to  our  possessions.  Shame  on  the  lewd  har- 
lot !  What  woman  so  bloody  and  so  dissolute  ? 
What  man  so  feeble  and  craven  as  her  lord  ?  " 

"  Alas !  sir,"  said  Adam — "  I  am  unfitted  for  these 
high  considerations  of  state.  I  live  but  for  my  art, 
and  in  it.  And  now,  behold  how  my  kingdom  is 
shaken  and  rent !  "  he  pointed  with  so  touching  a 
smile,  and  so  simple  a  sadness,  to  the  broken  engine, 
that  Richard  was  moved. 

"  Thou  lovest  this,  thy  toy  ?  I  can  comprehend  that 
love  for  some  dumb  thing  that  we  have  toiled  for. 
Ay !  "  continued  the  prince,  thoughtfully — "  ay !  I 
have  noted  myself  in  life,  that  there  are  objects,  sense- 
less as  that  mould  of  iron,  which,  if  we  labour  at 
them,  wind  round  our  hearts  as  if  they  were  flesh  and 
blood.  So  some  men  love  learning,  others  glory, 
others  power.  Well,  man,  thou  lovest  that  mechan- 
ical ?  How  many  years  hast  thou  been  about  it  ?  " 

"  From  the  first  to  the  last,,  twenty-five  years,  and 
it  is  still  incomplete." 

"  Um  !  "  said  the  prince,  smiling — "  Master  War- 
ner, thou  hast  read  of  the  judgment  of  Solomon — how 
the  wise  king  discovered  the  truth  by  ordering  the 
child's  death." 

"  It  was  indeed,"  said  Adam,  unsuspectingly — "  a 
most  shrewd  suggestion  of  native  wit  and  clerkly  wis- 
dom." 

"  Glad  am  I  thou  approvest  it,  Master  Warner," 
said  Richard.  And  as  he  spoke  the  tormentor  re- 
appeared with  a  smith,  armed  with  the  implements  of 
his  trade. 

"  Good  smith,  break  into  pieces  this  stubborn  iron ; 
bare  all  its  receptacles ;  leave  not  one  fragment  stand- 


228  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

ing  on  the  other!  Delenda  est  tua  Carthago,  Master 
Warner.  There  is  Latin  in  answer  to  thy  logic." 

It  is  impossible  to  convey  any  notion  of  the  terror, 
the  rage,  the  despair,  which  seized  upon  the  unhappy 
sage  when  these  words  smote  his  ear,  and  he  saw  the 
smith's  brawny  arms  swing  on  high  the  ponderous 
hammer.  He  flung  himself  between  the  murderous 
stroke  and  his  beloved  model.  He  embraced  the 
grim  iron  tightly.  "  Kill  me! "  he  exclaimed,  sub- 
limely, "  kill  me! — not  my  THOUGHT!  " 

"  Solomon  was  verily  and  indeed  a  wise  king,"  said 
the  duke,  with  a  low  inward  laugh.  "  And  now,  man, 
I  have  thee !  To  save  thy  infant — thine  art's  hideous 
infant — confess  the  whole !  " 

It  was  then  that  a  fierce  struggle  evidently  took 
place  in  Adam's  bosom.  It  was,  perhaps — O  reader! 
thou  whom  pleasure,  love,  ambition,  hatred,  avarice, 
in  thine  and  our  ordinary  existence,  tempt — it  was, 
perhaps,  to  him  the  one  arch-temptation  of  a  life.  In 
the  changing  countenance,  the  heaving  breast,  the 
trembling  lip,  the  eyes  that  closed  and  opened  to 
close  again,  as  if  to  shut  out  the  unworthy  weakness 
— yea,  in  the  whole  physical  man — was  seen  the  crisis 
of  the  moral  struggle.  And  what,  in  truth,  to  him, 
an  Edward  or  a  Henry,  a  Lancaster  or  a  York? 
Nothing.  But  still  that  instinct,  that  principle,  that 
conscience,  ever  strongest  in  those  whose  eyes  are 
accustomed  to  the  search  of  truth,  prevailed.  So  he 
rose  suddenly  and  quietly,  drew  himself  apart,  left  his 
work  to  the  Destroyer,  and  said — 

"  Prince,  thou  art  a  boy !  Let  a  boy's  voice  annihi- 
late that  which  should  have  served  all  time.  Strike !  " 

Richard  motioned — the  hammer  descended — the 
engine  and  its  appurtenances  reeled,  and  crashed — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  229 

the  doors  flew  open — -the  wheels  rattled — the  sparks 
flew.  And  Adam  Warner  fell  to  the  ground,  as  if  the 
blow  had  broken  his  own  heart.  Little,  heeding  the 
insensible  victim  of  his  hard  and  cunning  policy,  Rich- 
ard advanced  to  the  inspection  of  the  interior  recesses 
of  the  machinery.  But  that  which  promised  Adam's 
destruction,  saved  him.  The  heavy  stroke  had  bat- 
tered in  the  receptacle  of  the  documents — had  buried 
them  in  the  layers  of  iron.  The  faithful  Eureka,  even 
amidst  its  injuries  and  wrecks,  preserved  the  secret 
of  its  master. 

The  prince,  with  impatient  hands,  explored  all  the 
apertures  yet  revealed,  and  after  wasting  many  min- 
utes in  a  fruitless  search,  was  about  to  bid  the  smith 
complete  the  work  of  destruction,  when  the  door  sud- 
denly opened  and  Lord  Hastings  entered.  His  quick 
eye  took  in  the  whole  scene — he  arrested  the  lifted 
arm  of  the  smith,  and  passing  deliberately  to  Glouces- 
ter, said  with  a  profound  reverence,  but  a  half- 
reproachful  smile,  "  My  lord !  my  lord !  your  highness 
is  indeed  severe  upon  my  poor  scholar." 

"  Canst  thou  answer  for  thy  scholar's  loyalty  ?  " 
said  the  Duke,  gloomily. 

Hastings  drew  the  prince  aside,  and  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  "  His  loyalty !  poor  man,  I  know  not ;  but  his 
guilelessness,  surely,  yes.  Look  you,  sweet  prince,  I 
know  the  interest  thou  hast  in  keeping  well  with  the 
Earl  of  Warwick,  whom  I,  in  sooth,  have  slight  cause 
to  love.  Thou  hast  trusted  me  with  thy  young  hopes 
of  the  Lady  Anne ;  this  new  Nevile  placed  about  the 
king,  and  whose  fortunes  Warwick  hath  made  his 
care,  hath,  I  have  reason  to  think,  some  love  passages 
with  the  scholar's  daughter — the  daughter  came  to 
me  for  the  passport.  Shall  this  Marmaduke  Nevile 


230  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

have  it  to  say  to  his  fair  kinswoman,  with  the  un- 
forgiving malice  of  a  lover's  memory,  that  the  princely 
Gloucester  stooped  to  be  the  torturer  of  yon  poor 
old  man?  If  there  be  treason  in  the  scholar,  or  in 
yon  battered  craft-work,  leave  the  search  to  me." 

The  duke  raised  his  dark,  penetrating  eyes  to  those 
of  Hastings,  which  did  not  quail.  For  here  world- 
genius  encountered  world-genius,  and  art,  art. 

"  Thine  argument  hath  more  subtlety  and  circum- 
locution than  suit  with  simple  truth,"  said  the  prince, 
smiling.  "  But  it  is  enough  to  Richard  that  Hastings 
wills  protection  even  to  a  spy ! " 

Hastings  kissed  the  duke's  hand  in  silence,  and  go- 
ing to  the  door,  he  disappeared  a  moment  and  re- 
turned with  Sibyll.  As  she  entered,  pale  and  trem- 
bling, Adam  rose,  and  the  girl  with  a  wild  cry  flew  to 
his  bosom. 

"  It  is  a  winsome  face,  Hastings,"  said  the  duke, 
drily.  "  I  pity  Master  Nevile  the  lover,  and  envy  my 
Lord  Chamberlain  the  protector." 

Hastings  laughed,  for  he  was  well  pleased  that 
Richard's  suspicion  took  that  turn. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  Master  Nevile 
and  the  Duchess  of  Bedford's  page  may  enter.  Your 
guard  stopped  them  hitherto.  They  come  for  this 
gentleman  from  her  highness  the  queen's  mother." 

"  Enter,  Master  Nevile,  and  you,  Sir  Page.  What 
is  your  errand?  " 

"  My  lady,  the  duchess,"  said  the  page,  "  has  sent 
me  to  conduct  Master  Warner  to  the  apartments  pre- 
pared for  him  as  her  special  multiplier  and  alchemist." 

"  What !  "  said  the  prince,  who,  unlike  the  irritable 
Clarence,  made  it  his  policy  to  show  all  decorous  hom- 
age to  the  queen's  kin ;  "  hath  that  illustrious  lady 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  231 

taken  this  gentleman  into  her  service?  Why  an- 
nounced you  not,  Master  Warner,  what  at  once  had 
saved  you  from  further  questioning?  Lord  Hastings, 
I  thank  you  now  for  your  intercession." 

Hastings,  in  answer,  pointed  archly  at  Marmaduke, 
who  was  aiding  Sibyll  to  support  her  father.  "  Do 
you  suspect  me  still,  prince  ?  "  he  whispered. 

The  duke  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  Adam, 
breaking  from  Marmaduke  and  Sibyll,  passed  with 
tottering  steps  to  the  shattered  labour  of  his  solitary 
life.  He  looked  at  the  ruin  with  mournful  despond- 
ence, with  quivering  lips.  "  Have  you  done  with 
me  ?  "  then  he  said,  bowing  his  head  lowlily,  for  his 
pride  was  gone — "  may  we — that  is,  I  and  this,  my 
poor  device,  withdraw  from  your  palace?  I  see  we 
are  not  fit  for  kings !  " 

"  Say  not  so,"  said  the  young  duke,  gently :  "  we 
have  now  convinced  ourselves  of  our  error,  and  I 
crave  thy  pardon,  Master  Warner,  for  my  harsh  deal- 
ings. As  for  this,  thy  toy,  the  king's  workmen  shall 
set  it  right  for  thee.  Smith,  call  the  fellows  yonder, 

to  help  bear  this  to "  He  paused,  and  glanced  at 

Hastings. 

"  To  my  apartments,"  said  the  Chamberlain.  "  Your 
highness  may  be  sure  that  I  will  there  inspect  it.  Fear 
not,  Master  Warner;  no  further  harm  shall  chance 
to  thy  contrivance." 

"  Come,  sir,  forgive  me,"  said  the  duke.  With  gra- 
cious affability  the  young  prince  held  out  his  hand, 
the  fingers  of  which  sparkled  with  costly  gems,  to  the 
old  man.  The  old  man  bowed  as  if  his  beard  would 
have  swept  the  earth,  but  he  did  not  touch  the  hand. 
He  seemed  still  in  a  state  between  dream  and  reason, 
life  and  death :  he  moved  not,  spoke  not,  till  the  men 


232  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

came  to  bear  the  model ;  and  he  then  followed  it.  his 
arms  folded  in  his  gown,  till,  on  entering  the  court, 
it  was  borne  in  a  contrary  direction  from  his  own,  to 
the  Chamberlain's  apartment ;  then  wistfully  pursuing 
it  with  his  eyes,  he  uttered  such  a  sigh  as  might  have 
come  from  a  resigned  father  losing  the  last  glimpse 
of  a  beloved  son. 

Richard  hesitated  a  moment,  loth  to  relinquish  his 
research,  and  doubtful  whether  to  follow  the  Eureka 
for  renewed  investigation ;  but  partly  unwilling  to 
compromise  his  dignity  in  the  eyes  of  Hastings, 
should  his  suspicions  prove  unfounded,  and  partly  in- 
disposed to  risk  the  displeasure  of  the  vindictive 
Duchess  of  Bedford  by  further  molestation  of  one 
now  under  her  protection,  he  reluctantly  trusted  all 
further  inquiry  to  the  well-known  loyalty  of  Hastings. 

"  If  Margaret  be  in  London,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self as  he  turned  slowly  away,  "  now  is  the  time  to 
seize  and  chain  the  lioness !  Ho,  Catesby, — hither  (a 
valuable  man  that  Catesby — a  lawyer's  nurturing 
with  a  bloodhound's  nature !) — Catesby,  while  King 
Edward  rides  for  pleasure,  let  thou  and  I  track  the 
scent  of  his  foes.  If  the  she-wolf  of  Anjou  hath  vent- 
ured hither,  she  hides  in -some  convent  or  monastery, 
be  sure.  See  to  our  palfreys,  Catesby!  Strange" 
(added  the  prince,  muttering  to  himself),  "  that  I  am 
more  restless  to  guard  the  crown  than  he  who  wears 
it!  Nay,  a  crown  is  a  goodly  heirloom  in  a  man's 
family,  and  a  fair  sight  to  see  near — and  near — and 
near " 

The  prince  abruptly  paused,  opened  and  shut  his 
right  hand  convulsively,  and  drew  a  long  sigh. 


CHAPTER   I 

MARGARET   OF  ANJOU 

The  day  after  the  events  recorded  in  the  last  section 
of  this  narrative,  and  about  the  hour  of  noon,  Robert 
Hilyard  (still  in  the  reverend  disguise  in  which  he  had 
accosted  Hastings)  bent  his  way  through  the  labyrinth 
of  alleys  that  wound  in  dingy  confusion  from  the 
Chepe  towards  the  river. 

The  purlieus  of  the  Thames,  in  that  day  of  ineffec- 
tive police,  sheltered  many  who  either  lived  upon  plun- 
der, or  sought  abodes  that  proffered,  at  alarm,  the 
facility  of  flight.  Here,  sauntering  in  twos  or  threes, 
or  lazily  reclined  by  the  thresholds  of  plaster  huts, 
might  be  seen  that  refuse  population  which  is  the  un- 
holy offspring  of  civil  war — disbanded  soldiers  of 
either  Rose,  too  inured  to  violence  and  strife  for  peace- 
ful employment,  and  ready  for  any  enterprise  by  which 
keen  steel  wins  bright  gold.  At  length,  our  friend 
stopped  before  the  gate  of  a  small  house,  on  the  very 
marge  of  the  river,  which  belonged  to  one  of  the  many 
religious  orders  then  existing;  but  from  its  site  and  as- 
pect, denoted  the  poverty  seldom  their  characteristic. 
Here  he  knocked;  the  door  was  opened  by  a  lay- 
brother;  a  sign  and  a  smile  were  interchanged,  and  the 

233 


234  THE  LAST  OR  THE  BARONS 

visitor  was  ushered  into  a  room  belonging  to  the  su- 
perior, but  given  up  for  the  last  few  days  to  a  foreign 
priest,  to  whom  the  whole  community  appeared  to  con- 
sider the  reverence  of  a  saint  was  due.  And  yet  this 
priest,  who,  seated  alone,  by  a  casement  which  com- 
manded a  partial  view  of  the  distant  Tower  of  London, 
received  the  conspirator,  was  clad  in  the  humblest 
serge.  His  face  was  smooth  and  delicate;  and  the 
animation  of  the  aspect,  the  vehement  impatience  of 
the  gesture,  evinced  little  of  the  holy  calm  that  should 
belong  to  those  who  have  relinquished  the  affairs  of 
earth  for  meditation  on  the  things  of  heaven.  To  this 
personage,  the  sturdy  Hilyard  bowed  his  manly  knees; 
and  casting  himself  at  the  priest's  feet,  his  eyes,  his 
countenance,  changed  from  their  customary  hardihood 
and  recklessness,  into  an  expression  at  once  of  rever- 
ence and  of  pity. 

"  Well,  man — well,  friend — good  friend,  tried  and 
leal  friend — speak!  speak!"  exclaimed  the  priest,  in 
an  accent  that  plainly  revealed  a  foreign  birth! 

"  Oh !  gracious  lady !  all  hope  is  over :  I  come  but 
to  bid  you  fly.  Adam  Warner  was  brought  before  the 
usurper;  he  escaped,  indeed,  the  torture,  and  was  faith- 
ful to  the  trust.  But  the  papers — the  secret  of  the  ris- 
ing,— are  in  the  hands  of  Hastings." 

"  How  long,  O  Lord,"  said  Margaret  of  Anjou,  for 
she  it  was,  under  that  reverend  disguise,  "how  long 
wilt  thou  delay  the  hour  of  triumph  and  revenge?  " 

The  princess,  as  she  spoke,  had  suffered  her  hood 
to  fall  back,  and  her  pale,  commanding  countenance, 
so  well  fitted  to  express  fiery  and  terrible  emotion, 
wore  that  aspect  in  which  many  a  sentenced  man  had 
read  his  doom;  an  aspect  the  more  fearful,  inasmuch 
as  the  passion  that  pervaded  it  did  not  distort  the  feat- 


I  come  but  to  bid  you  fly." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  235 

ures,  but  left  them  locked,  rigid,  and  marble-like  in 
beauty,  as  the  head  of  the  Medusa. 

"  The  day  will  dawn  at  last,"  said  Hilyard,  "  but  the 
judgments  of  Heaven  are  slow.  We  are  favoured,  at 
the  least,  that  our  secret  is  confined  to  a  man  more 
merciful  than  his  tribe."  He  then  related  to  Margaret 
his  interview  with  Hastings,  at  the  house  of  the  Lady  ' 
Longueville,  and  continued: — "This  morning,  not  an 
hour  since,  I  sought  him  (for  last  evening  he  did  not 
leave  Edward — a  council  met  at  the  Tower),  and 
learned  that  he  had  detected  the  documents  in  the  re- 
cesses of  Warner's  engine.  Knowing  from  your  high- 
ness and  your  spies,  that  he  had  been  open  to  the  gifts 
of  Charolois,  I  spoke  to  him  plainly  of  the  guerdon 
that  should  await  his  silence.  '  Friar,'  he  answered, 
'  if  in  this  court  and  this  world  I  have  found  it  were  a 
fool's  virtue  to  be  more  pure  than  others,  and  if  I  know 
that  I  should  but  provoke  the  wrath  of  those  who  profit 
by  Burgundian  gold,  were  I  alone  to  disdain  its  glitter ; 
I  have  still  eno'  of  my  younger  conscience  left  me  not  ' 
to  make  barter  of  human  flesh.  Did  I  give  these 
papers  to  King  Edward,  the  heads  of  fifty  gallant  men, 
whose  error  is  but  loyalty  to  their  ancient  sovereign, 
would  glut  the  doomsman.  But,'  he  continued,  '  I  am 
yet  true  to  my  king  and  his  cause;  I  shall  know  how 
to  advise  Edward  to  the  frustrating  all  your  schemes. 
The  districts  where  you  hoped  a  rising  will  be  guard- 
ed, the  men  ye  count  upon  will  be  watched:  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  whose  vigilance  never  sleeps,  has  learned 
that  the  Lady  Margaret  is  in  England,  disguised  as  a 
priest.  To-morrow,  all  the  religious  houses  will  be 
searched;  if  thou  knowest  where  she  lies  concealed,  bid 
her  lose  not  an  hour  to  fly.'  " 

"I  will  NOT  fly!"  exclaimed  Margaret;  "let  Ed- 


236  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

ward,  if  he  dare,  proclaim  to  my  people  that  their 
queen  is  in  her  city  of  London.  Let  him  send  his  hire- 
lings to  seize  her.  Not  in  this  dress  shall  she  be  found. 
In  robes  of  state,  the  sceptre  in  her  hand,  shall  they 
drag  the  consort  of  their  king  to  the  prison-house  of 
her  palace." 

"  On  my  knees,  great  queen,  I  implore  you  to  be 
calm;  with  the  loss  of  your  liberty  ends  indeed  all  hope 
of  victory,  all  chance  even  of  struggle.  Think  not  Ed- 
ward's fears  would  leave  to  Margaret  the  life  that  his 
disdain  has  spared  to  your  royal  spouse.  Between 
your  prison  and  your  grave,  but  one  secret  and  bloody 
step!  Be  ruled;  no  time  to  lose!  My  trusty  Hugh, 
even  now,  waits  with  his  boat  below.  Relays  of  horses 
are  ready,  night  and  day,  to  bear  you  to  the  coast; 
while  seeking  your  restoration,  I  have  never  neglected 
the  facilities  for  flight.  Pause  not,  O  gracious  lady; 
let  not  your  son  say — '  My  mother's  passion  has  lost 
me  the  hope  of  my  grandsire's  crown.'  " 

"My  boy,  my  princely  boy,  my  Edward!"  ex- 
claimed Margaret,  bursting  into  tears,  all  the  warrior- 
queen  merged  in  the  remembrance  of  the  fond  mother. 
"Ah!  faithful  friend!  he  is  so  gallant  and  so  beauti- 
ful! Oh,  he  shall  reward  thee  well  hereafter!  " 

"  May  he  live  to  crush  these  barons,  and  raise  this 
people!  "  said  the  demagogue  of  Redesdale.  "  But 
now,  save  thyself." 

"But  what! — is  it  not  possible  yet  to  strike  the 
blow!  rather  let  us  spur  to  the  north — rather  let  us 
hasten  the  hour  of  action,  and  raise  the  Red  Rose 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  England !  " 

"  Ah,  lady,  if  without  warrant  from  your  lord — if 
without  foreign  subsidies — if  without  having  yet  rip- 
ened the  time — if  without  gold,  without  arms,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  237 

without  one  great  baron  on  our  side,  we  forestall  a  ris- 
ing, all  that  we  have  gained  is  lost ;  and  instead  of  war, 
you  can  scarcely  provoke  a  riot.  But  for  this  accursed 
alliance  of  Edward's  daughter  with  the  brother  of  the 
icy-hearted  Louis,  our  triumph  had  been  secure.  The 
French  king's  gold  would  have  manned  a  camp, 
bribed  the  discontented  lords,  and  his  support  have 
sustained  the  hopes  of  the  more  leal  Lancastrians. 
But  it  is  in  vain  to  deny,  that  if  Lord  Warwick  win 
Louis " 

"  He  will  not ! — he  shall  not ! — Louis,  mine  own  kins- 
man! "  exclaimed  Margaret,  in  a  voice  in  which  the 
anguish  pierced  through  the  louder  tone  of  resentment 
and  disdain. 

"  Let  us  hope  that  he  will  not,"  replied  Hilyard, 
soothingly;  "some  chance  may  yet  break  off  these 
nuptials,  and  once  more  give  us  France  as  our  firm 
ally.  But  now  we  must  be  patient.  Already  Edward 
is  fast  wearing  away  the  gloss  of  his  crown — already 
the  great  lords  desert  his  court — already,  in  the  rural 
provinces,  peasant  and  franklin  complain  of  the  ex- 
actions of  his  minions — already  the  mighty  house  of 
Nevile  frowns  sullen  on  the  throne  it  built.  Another 
year,  and  who  knows  but  the  Earl  of  Warwick — the 
beloved  and  the  fearless — whose  statesman-art  alone 
hath  severed  from  you  the  arms  and  aid  of  France — 
at  whose  lifted  finger  all  England  would  bristle  with 
armed  men  —  may  ride  by  the  side  of  Margaret 
through  the  gates  of  London?" 

"  Evil-omened  consoler,  never! "  exclaimed  the 
princess,  starting  to  her  feet,  with  eyes  that  literally 
shot  fire.  "  Thinkest  thou  that  the  spirit  of  a  queen 
lies  in  me  so  low  and  crushed,  that  I,  the  descendant 
of  Charlemagne,  could  forgive  the  wrongs  endured 


238  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

from  Warwick  and  his  father.  But  thou,  though  wise 
and  loyal,  art  of  the  Commons:  thou  knowest  not  how 
they  feel  through  whose  veins  rolls  the  blood  ol 
kings!  " 

A  dark  and  cold  shade  fell  over  the  bold  face  of 
Robin  of  Redesdale  at  these  words. 

"  Ah,  lady,"  he  said,  with  bitterness,  "  if  no  misfort- 
une can  curb  thy  pride,  in  vain  would  we  rebuild  thy 
throne.  It  is  these  Commons,  Margaret  of  Anjou — 
these  English  Commons — this  Saxon  People,  that  can 
alone  secure  to  thee  the  holding  of  the  realm  which 
the  right  arm  wins.  And,  beshrew  me,  much  as  I 
love  thy  cause — much  as  thou  hast  with  thy  sorrows 
and  thy  princely  beauty,  glamoured  and  spelled  my 
heart  and  my  hand — ay,  so  that  I,  the  son  of  a  Lollard, 
forget  the  wrongs  the  Lollards  sustained  from  the 
House  of  Lancaster — so  that  I,  who  have  seen  the 
glorious  fruitage  of  a  Republic,  yet  labour  for  thee, 
to  overshadow  the  land  with  the  throne  of  ONE — yet — 
yet,  lady — yet,  if  I  thought  thou  wert  to  be  the  same 
Margaret  as  pf  old,  looking  back  to  thy  dead  kings, 
and  contemptuous  of  thy  living  people,  I  would  not 
bid  one  mother's  son  lift  lance  or  bill  on  thy  behalf." 

So  resolutely  did  Robin  of  Redesdale  utter  these 
words,  that  the  queen's  haughty  eye  fell  abashed  as 
he  spoke;  and  her  craft,  or  her  intellect,  which  was 
keen  and  prompt  where  her  passions  did  not  deafen 
and  blind  her  judgment,  instantly  returned  to  her. 
Few  women  equalled  this  once  idol  of  knight  and  min- 
strel, in  the  subduing  fascination  that  she  could  exert 
in  her  happier  moments.  Her  affability  was  as  gra- 
cious as  her  wrath  was  savage;  and  with  a  dignified 
and  winning  frankness,  she  extended  her  hand  to  her 
ally,  as  she  answered,  in  a  sweet,  humble,  womanly, 
and  almost  penitent  voice — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  239 

"  O,  bravest  and  lealest  of  friends,  forgive  thy 
wretched  queen.  Her  troubles  distract  her  brain, 
chide  her  not  if  they  sour  her  speech.  Saints  above! 
will  ye  not  pardon  Margaret,  if  at  times  her  nature 
be  turned  from  the  mother's  milk  into  streams  of  gall 
and  bloody  purpose — when  ye  see,  from  your  homes 
serene,  in  what  a  world  of  strife  and  falsehood  her  very 
womanhood  hath  grown  unsexed!"  She  paused  a 
moment,  and  her  uplifted  eyes  shed  tears  fast  and 
large.  Then,  with  a  sigh,  she  turned  to  Hilyard,  and 
resumed  more  calmly — "  Yes,  thou  art  right — adver- 
sity hath  taught  me  much.  And  though  adversity  will 
too  often  but  feed  and  not  starve  our  pride,  yet  thou — 
thou  hast  made  me  know  that  there  is  more  of  true 
nobility  in  the  blunt  Children  of  the  People,  than  in 
many  a  breast  over  which  flows  the  kingly  robe.  For- 
give me,  and  the  daughter  of  Charlemagne  shall  yet 
be  a  mother  to  the  Commons,  who  claim  thee  as  their 
brother!" 

Thoroughly  melted,  Robin  of  Redesdale  bowed  over 
the  hand  held  to  his  lips,  and  his  rough  voice  trembled 
as  he  answered — though  that  answer  took  but  the 
shape  of  prayer. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  princess,  smiling,  "  to  make 
peace  lasting  between  us; — I  conquer  myself — I  yield 
to  thy  counsels.  Once  more  the  fugitive,  I  abandon 
the  city  that  contains  Henry's  unheeded  prison.  See, 
I  am  ready.  Who  will  know  Margaret  in  this  attire? 
Lead  on!" 

Rejoiced  to  seize  advantage  of  this  altered  and  sub- 
missive mood,  Robin  instantly  took  the  way  through 
a  narrow  passage,  to  a  small  door  communicating  with 
the  river.  There  Hugh  was  waiting  in  a  small  boat, 
moored  to  the  damp  and  discoloured  stairs. 


240  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

Robin,  by  a  gesture,  checked  the  man's  impulse  to 
throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  pretended  priest,  and 
bade  him  put  forth  his  best  speed.  The  princess  seat- 
ed herself  by  the  helm  and  the  little  boat  cut  rapidly 
through  the  noble  stream.  Galleys,  gay  and  gilded, 
with  armorial  streamers,  and  filled  with  nobles  and  gal- 
lants, passed  them,  noisy  with  mirth  or  music,  on  their 
way.  These  the  fallen  sovereign  heeded  not;  but,  with 
all  her  faults,  the  woman's  heart  beating  in  her  bosom 
— she  who,  in  prosperity,  had  so  often  wrought  ruin, 
and  shame,  and  woe  to  her  gentle  lord;  she  who  had 
been  reckless  of  her  trust  as  queen,  and  incurred  grave 
— but,  let  us  charitably  hope,  unjust — suspicion,  of  her 
faith  as  wife,  still  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  gloomy  tower 
that  contained  her  captive  husband,  and  felt  that  she 
could  have  forgotten  awhile  even  the  loss  of  power  if 
but  permitted  to  fall  on  that  plighted  heart,  and  weep 
over  the  past  with  the  woe-worn  bridegroom  of  her 
youth. 


CHAPTER    II 

IN  WHICH  ARE  LAID  OPEN  TO  THE  READER  THE  CHAR- 
ACTER OF  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  THAT  OF  HIS 
COURT,  WITH  THE  MACHINATIONS  OF  THE  WOOD- 
VILLES  AGAINST  THE  EARL  OF  WARWICK 

Scarcely  need  it  be  said  to  those  who  have  looked 
with  some  philosophy  upon  human  life,  that  the  young 
existence  of  Master  Marmaduke  Nevile,  once  fairly 
merged  in  the  great  common  sea,  will  rarely  reappear 
before  us  individualised  and  distinct.  The  type  of  the 
provincial  cadet  of  the  day,  hastening  courtwards  to 
seek  his  fortune,  he  becomes  lost  amidst  the  gigantic 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  241 

characters  and  fervid  passions  that  alone  stand  forth 
in  history.  And  as,  in  reading  biography,  we  first 
take  interest  in  the  individual  who  narrates,  but  if  his 
career  shall  pass  into  that  broader  and  more  stirring 
life,  in  which  he  mingles  with  men  who  have  left  a 
more  dazzling  memory  than  his  own,  we  find  the  inter- 
est change  from  the  narrator  to  those  by  whom  he  is 
surrounded  and  eclipsed, — so,  in  this  record  of  a  time, 
we  scarce  follow  our  young  adventurer  into  the  court 
of  the  brilliant  Edward,  ere  the  scene  itself  allures  and 
separates  us  from  our  guide;  his  mission  is,  as  it  were, 
well  nigh  done.  We  leave,  then,  for  a  while,  this  bold, 
frank  nature — fresh  from  the  health  of  the  rural  life — 
gradually  to  improve,  or  deprave  itself,  in  the  compan- 
ionship it  finds.  The  example  of  the  Lords  Hastings, 
Scales,  and  Worcester,  and  the  accomplishments  of  the 
two  younger  Princes  of  York,  especially  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  had  diffused  among  the  younger  and 
gayer  part  of  the  court  that  growing  taste  for  letters 
which  had  somewhat  slept  during  the  dynasty  of  the 
House  of  Lancaster;  and  Marmaduke's  mind  became 
aware  that  learning  was  no  longer  the  peculiar  dis- 
tinction of  the  church,  and  that  Warwick  was  behind 
his  age  when  he  boasted  "  that  the  sword  was  more 
familiar  to  him  than  the  pen."  He  had  the  sagacity 
to  perceive  that  the  alliance  with  the  great  earl  did 
not  conduce  to  his  popularity  at  court;  and,  even  in 
the  king's  presence,  the  courtiers  permitted  themselves 
many  taunts  and  jests  of  the  fiery  Warwick,  which  they 
would  have  bitten  out  their  tongues  ere  they  would 
have  vented  before  the  earl  himself.  But,  though  the 
Nevile  sufficiently  controlled  his  native  candour  not  to 
incur  unprofitable  quarrel  by  ill-mannered  and  unsea- 
sonable defence  of  the  hero-baron,  when  sneered  at  or 
VOL.  L— 16 


242  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

assailed,  he  had  enough  of  the  soldier  and  the  man  in 
him  not  to  be  tainted  by  the  envy  of  the  time  and 
place — not  to  lose  his  gratitude  to  his  patron,  nor  his 
respect  for  the  bulwark  of  the  country.  Rather,  it  may 
be  said,  that  Warwick  gained  in  his  estimation  when- 
ever compared  with  the  gay  and  silken  personages 
who  avenged  themselves  by  words  for  his  superiority 
in  deeds.  Not  only  as  a  soldier,  but  as  a  statesman, 
the  great  and  peculiar  merits  of  the  earl  were  visible 
in  all  those  measures  which  emanated  solely  from  him- 
self. Though  so  indifferently  educated,  his  busy,  prac- 
tical career,  his  affable  mixing  with  all  classes,  and  his 
hearty,  national  sympathies,  made  him  so  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  interests  of  his  country  and  the 
habits  of  his  countrymen,  that  he  was  far  more  fitted 
to  rule  than  the  scientific  Worcester  or  the  learned 
Scales.  The  young  Duke  of  Gloucester  presented  a 
marked  contrast  to  the  general  levity  of  the  court,  in 
speaking  of  this  powerful  nobleman.  He  never  named 
him  but  with  respect,  and  was  pointedly  courteous  to 
even  the  humblest  member  of  the  earl's  family.  In 
this  he  appeared  to  advantage  by  the  side  of  Clarence, 
whose  weakness  of  disposition  made  him  take  the  tone 
of  the  society  in  which  he  was  thrown,  and  who,  while 
really  loving  Warwick,  often  smiled  at  the  jests  against 
him — not,  indeed,  if  uttered  by  the  queen  or  her  fam- 
ily, of  whom  he  ill  concealed  his  jealousy  and  hatred. 
The  whole  court  was  animated  and  pregnant  with  a 
spirit  of  intrigue,  which  the  artful  cunning  of  the 
queen,  the  astute  policy  of  Jacquetta,  and  the  animos- 
ity of  the  different  factions  had  fomented,  to  a  degree 
quite  unknown  under  former  reigns.  It  was  a  place 
in  which  the  wit  of  young  men  grew  old  rapidly: 
amidst  stratagem,  and  plot,  and  ambitious  design,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  243 

stealthy  overreaching,  the  boyhood  of  Richard  III. 
passed  to  its  relentless  manhood:  such  is  the  inevitable 
fruit  of  that  era  in  civilization  when  a  martial  aristoc- 
racy first  begins  to  merge  into  a  voluptuous  court. 

Through  this  moving  and  shifting  web  of  ambition 
and  intrigue  the  royal  Edward  moved  with  a  careless 
grace:  simple  himself,  because  his  object  was  won,  and 
pleasure  had  supplanted  ambition.  His  indolent,  joy- 
ous temper,  served  to  deaden  his  powerful  intellect; 
or,  rather,  his  intellect  was  now  lost  in  the  sensual 
stream  through  which  it  flowed.  Ever  in  pursuit  of 
some  new  face,  his  schemes  and  counter-schemes  were 
limited  to  cheat  a  husband  or  deceive  a  wife;  and  dex- 
terous and  successful,  no  doubt,  they  were.  But  a 
vice  always  more  destructive  than  the  love  of  women 
began  also  to  reign  over  him, — viz.,  the  intemperance 
of  the  table.  The  fastidious  and  graceful  epicurism  of 
the  early  Normans,  inclined  to  dainties  but  abhorring 
excess,  and  regarding  with  astonished  disdain  the 
heavy  meals  and  deep  draughts  of -the  Saxon,  had  long 
ceased  to  characterise  the  offspring  of  that  noblest  of 
all  noble  races.  Warwick,  whose  stately  manliness  was 
disgusted  with  whatever  savoured  of  effeminacy  or  de- 
bauch, used  to  declare  that  he  would  rather  fight  fifty 
battles  for  Edward  IV.  than  once  sup  with  him! 
Feasts  were  prolonged  for  hours,  and  the  banquets  of 
this  king  of  the  Middle  Ages  almost  resembled  those 
of  the  later  Roman  emperors.  The  Lord  Montagu  did 
not  share  the  abstemiousness  of  his  brother  of  War- 
wick. He  was,  next  to  Hastings,  the  king's  chosen 
and  most  favourite  companion.  He  ate  almost  as 
much  as  the  king,  and  drank  very  little  less.  Of  few 
courtiers  could  the  same  be  said!  Over  the  lavish 
profligacy  and  excess  of  the  court,  however,  a  veil, 


244  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

dazzling  to  the  young  and  high-spirited,  was  thrown. 
Edward  was  thoroughly  the  cavalier,  deeply  imbued 
v/ith  the  romance  of  chivalry,  and,  while  making  the 
absolute  woman  his  plaything,  always  treated  the  ideal 
woman  as  a  goddess.  A  refined  gallantry — a  deferen- 
tial courtesy  to  dame  and  demoiselle — united  the  lan- 
guage of  an  Amadis  with  the  licentiousness  of  a 
Gaolor;  and  a  far  more  alluring  contrast  than  the  court 
of  Charles  II.  presented  to  the  grim  Commonwealth, 
seduced  the  vulgar  in  that  of  this  most  brave  and  most 
beautiful  prince,  when  compared  with  the  mournful 
and  lugubrious  circles  in  which  Henry  VI.  had  reigned 
and  prayed.  Edward  himself,  too,  it  was  so  impossi- 
ble to  judge  with  severe  justice,  that  his  extraordinary 
popularity  in  London,  where  he  was  daily  seen,  was 
never  diminished  by  his  faults;  he  was  so  bold  in  the 
field,  yet  so  mild  in  the  chamber;  when  his  passions 
slept,  he  was  so  thoroughly  good-natured  and  social — 
so  kind  to  all  about  his  person — so  hearty  and  glad- 
some in  his  talk  and  in  his  vices — so  magnificent  and 
so  generous  withal;  and,  despite  his  indolence,  his  ca- 
pacities for  business  were  marvellous — and  these  last 
commanded  the  reverence  of  the  good  Londoners;  he 
often  administered  justice  himself,  like  the  caliphs  of 
the  East,  and  with  great  acuteness  and  address.  Like 
most  extravagant  men,  he  had  a  wholesome  touch  of 
avarice.  That  contempt  for  commerce  which  charac- 
terises a  modern  aristocracy  was  little  felt  by  the 
nobles  of  that  day,  with  the  exception  of  such  blunt 
patricians  as  Lord  Warwick  or  Raoul  de  Fulke.  The 
great  house  of  De  la  Pole  (Duke  of  Suffolk),  the  heir 
of  which  married  Edward's  sister,  Elizabeth,  had  been 
founded  by  a  merchant  of  Hull.  Earls  and  archbish- 
ops scrupled  not  to  derive  revenues  from  what  we 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  245 

should  now  esteem  the  literal  resources  of  trade.*  No 
house  had  ever  shown  itself  on  this  point  more  liberal 
in  its  policy,  more  free  from  feudal  prejudices,  than 
that  of  the  Plantagenets.  Even  Edward  II.  was  tena- 
cious of  the  commerce  with  Genoa,  and  an  intercourse 
with  the  merchant  princes  of  that  republic  probably 
served  to  associate  the  pursuits  of  commerce  with  the 
notion  of  rank  and  power.  Edward  III.  is  still  called 

*  The  Abbot  of  St.  Albans  (temp.  Henry  III.)  was  a  vendor 
of  Yarmouth  bloaters.  The  Cistercian  Monks  were  wool-mer- 
chants ;  and  Macpherson  tells  us  of  a  couple  of  Iceland  bishops 
who  got  a  licence  from  Henry  VI.  for  smuggling.  (Matthew 
Paris.  Macpherson's  "  Annals  of  Commerce,"  10.)  As  the 
Whig  historians  generally  have  thought  fit  to  consider  the 
Lancastrian  cause  the  more  "  liberal "  of  the  two,  because 
Henry  IV.  was  the  popular  choice,  and,  in  fact,  an  elected, 
not  an  hereditary  king,  so  it  cannot  be  too  emphatically  re- 
peated, that  the  accession  of  Edward  IV.  was  the  success  of 
two  new  and  two  highly  popular  principles — the  one,  that  of 
church  reform,  the  other,  that  of  commercial  calculation.  All 
that  immense  section,  almost  a  majority  of  the  people,  who 
had  been  persecuted  by  the  Lancastrian  kings  as  Lollards,  re- 
venged on  Henry  the  aggrieved  rights  of  religious  toleration. 
On  the  other  hand,  though  Henry  IV.,  who  was  immeasurably 
superior  to  his  warlike  son  in  intellect  and  statesmanship,  had 
favoured  the  growing  commercial  spirit,  it  had  received  noth- 
ing but  injury  under  Henry  V.,  and  little  better  than  contempt 
under  Henry  VI.  The  accession  of  the  Yorkists  was,  then, 
on  two  grounds,  a  great  popular  movement ;  and  it  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  third  advantage  to  the  popular  cause — viz.,  in  the 
determined  desire  both  of  Edward  and  Richard  III.  to  destroy 
the  dangerous  influence  of  the  old  feudal  aristocracy.  To  this 
end  Edward  laboured  in  the  creation  of  a  court  noblesse :  and 
Richard,  with  the  more  dogged  resolution  that  belonged  to 
him,  went  at  once  to  the  root  of  the  feudal  power,  in  forbid- 
ding the  nobles  to  give  badges  and  liveries ; "  in  other  words, 
to  appropriate  armies  under  the  name  of  retainers.  Henry 
VII.,  in  short,  did  not  originate  the  policy  for  which  he  has 
monopolised  the  credit;  he  did  but  steadily  follow  out  the 
theory  of  raising  the  middle  class  and  humbling  the  baronial, 
which  the  House  of  York  first  put  into  practice. 


a  This  also  was  forbidden,  it  is  true,  by  the  edict  of  Edward 
IV.  as  well  as  by  his  predecessors  from  the  reign  of  Richard 
II.,  but  no  king  seems  to  have  had  the  courage  to  enforce  the 
prohibition  before  Richard  III. 


246  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  Father  of  English  Commerce;  but  Edward  IV. 
carried  the  theories  of  his  ancestors  into  far  more  ex- 
tensive practice,  for  his  own  personal  profit.  This 
king,  so  indolent  in  the  palace,  was  literally  the  most 
active  merchant  in  the  mart.  He  traded  largely  in 
ships  of  his  own,  freighted  with  his  own  goods;  and 
though,  according  to  sound  modern  ceconomics,  this 
was  anything  but  an  aid  to  commerce,  seeing  that  no 
private  merchant  could  compete  with  a  royal  trader, 
who  went  out  and  came  in  duty-free,  yet  certainly  the 
mere  companionship  and  association  in  risk  and  gain, 
and  the  common  conversation  that  it  made  between 
the  affable  monarch  and  the  homeliest  trader,  served 
to  increase  his  popularity,  and  to  couple  it  with  respect 
for  practical  sense.  Edward  IV.  was  in  all  this  pre- 
eminently THE  MAN  OF  HIS  AGE — not  an  inch  behind 
it  or  before!  And,  in  addition  to  this  happy  position, 
he  was  one  of  those  darlings  of  Nature,  so  affluent  and 
blest  in  gifts  of  person,  mind,  and  outward  show,  that 
it  is  only  at  the  distance  of  posterity  we  ask  why  men 
of  his  own  age  admired  the  false,  the  licentious,  and 
the  cruel,  where  those  contemporaries,  over-dazzled, 
saw  but  the  heroic  and  the  joyous,  the  young,  the 
beautiful, — the  affable  to  friend,  and  the  terrible  to 
foe! 

It  was  necessary  to  say  thus  much  on  the  commer- 
cial tendencies  of  Edward,  because,  at  this  epoch,  they 
operated  greatly,  besides  other  motives  shortly  to  be 
made  clear,  in  favour  of  the  plot  laid  by  the  enemies 
of  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  to  dishonour  that  powerful 
minister,  and  drive  him  from  the  councils  of  the  king. 

One  morning  Hastings  received  a  summons  to  at- 
tend Edward,  and  on  entering  the  royal  chamber,  he 
found  already  assembled,  Lord  Rivers,  the  queen's 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  247 

father,  Anthony  Woodville,  and  the  Earl  of  Worces- 
ter. 

The  king  seemed  thoughtful;  he  beckoned  Hastings 
to  approach,  and  placed  in  his  hand  a  letter,  dated  from 
Rouen.  "  Read  and  judge,  Hastings,"  said  Edward. 

The  letter  was  from  a  gentleman  in  Warwick's  train. 
It  gave  a  glowing  account  of  the  honours  accorded  to 
the  earl  by  Louis  XL,  greater  than  those  ever  before 
manifested  to  a  subject,  and  proceeded  thus: — "But 
it  is  just  I  should  apprise  you  that  there  be  strange 
rumours  as  to  the  marvellous  love  that  King  Louis 
shows  my  lord  the  earl.  He  lodgeth  in  the  next  house 
to  him,  and  hath  even  had  an  opening  made  in  the 
partition-wall  between  his  own  chamber  and  the  earl's. 
Men  do  say  that  the  king  visits  him  nightly,  and  there 
be  those  who  think  that  so  much  stealthy  intercourse 
between  an  English  ambassador  and  the  kinsman  of 
Margaret  of  Anjou  bodeth  small  profit  to  our  grace 
the  king." 

"  I  observe,"  said  Hastings,  glancing  to  the  super- 
scription, "  that  this  letter  is  addressed  to  my  Lord 
Rivers.  Can  he  avouch  the  fidelity  of  his  correspond- 
ent?" 

"Surely,  yes,"  answered  Rivers;  "  it  is  a  gentleman 
of  my  own  blood." 

"  Were  he  not  so  accredited,"  returned  Hastings, 
"  I  should  question  the  truth  of  a  man  who  can  thus 
consent  to  play  the  spy  upon  his  lord  and  superior." 

"  The  public  weal  justifies  all  things,"  said  the  Earl 
of  Worcester  (who,  though  by  marriage  nearly  con- 
nected to  Warwick,  eyed  his  power  with  the  jealous 
scorn  which  the  man  of  book-lore  often  feels  for  one 
whose  talent  lies  in  action) — "  so  held  our  masters  in 
all  state-craft,  the  Greek  and  Roman." 


248  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Certes,"  said  Sir  Anthony  Woodville,  "  it  grieveth 
the  pride  of  an  English  knight,  that  we  should  be  be- 
holden for  courtesies  to  the  born  foe  of  England, 
which  I  take  the  Frenchman  naturally  to  be." 

"  Ah,"  said  Edward,  smiling  sternly,  "  I  would 
rather  be  myself,  with  banner  and  trump,  before  the 
walls  of  Paris,  than  sending  my  cousin,  the  earl,  to 
beg  the  French  king's  brother  to  accept  my  sister  as 
a  bride.  And  what  is  to  become  of  my  good  merchant- 
ships  if  Burgundy  take  umbrage  and  close  its  ports?  " 

"  Beau  sire,"  said  Hastings,  "  thou  knowest  how 
little  cause  I  have  to  love  the  Earl  of  Warwick.  We 
all  here,  save  your  gracious  self,  bear  the  memory  of 
some  affront  rendered  to  us  by  his  pride  and  heat  of 
mood!  but  in  this  council  I  must  cease  to  be  William 
de  Hastings,  and  be  all  and  wholly  the  king's  servant. 
I  say  first,  then,  with  reference  to  these  noble  peers, 
that  Warwick's  faith  to  the  House  of  York  is  too  well 
proven  to  become  suspected  because  of  the  courtesies 
of  King  Louis — an  artful  craft,  as  it  clearly  seems  to 
me,  of  the  wily  Frenchman,  to  weaken  your  throne, 
by  provoking  your  distrust  of  its  great  supporter.  Fall 
we  not  into  such  a  snare!  Moreover,  we  may  be  sure 
that  Warwick  cannot  be  false,  if  he  achieve  the  object 
of  his  embassy — viz.,  detach  Louis  from  the  side  of 
Margaret  and  Lancaster,  by  close  alliance  with  Ed- 
ward and  York.  Secondly,  sire,  with  regard  to  that 
alliance  which  it  seems  you  would  repent — I  hold  now, 
as  I  have  held  ever,  that  it  is  a  master-stroke  in  policy, 
and  the  earl  in  this  proves  his  sharp  brain  worthy  his 
strong  arm;  for  as  his  highness  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
hath  now  clearly  discover.^  that  Margaret  of  Anjou 
has  been  of  late  in  London,  and  that  treasonable  de- 
signs were  meditated,  though  now  frustrated,  so  we 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  249 

may  ask  why  the  friends  of  Lancaster  really  stood 
aloof?  why  all  conspiracy  was,  and  is  in  vain? — Be- 
cause, sire,  of  this  very  alliance  with  France;  because 
the  gold  and  subsidies  of  Louis  are  not  forthcoming; 
because  the  Lancastrians  see  that  if  once  Lord  War-  , 
wick  win  France  from  the  Red  Rose,  nothing  short  of 
such  a  miracle  as  their  gaining  Warwick  instead  can 
give  a  hope  to  their  treason.  Your  highness  fears  the 
anger  of  Burgundy,  and  the  suspension  of  your  trade 
with  the  Flemings;  but  forgive  me — this  is  not  reason- 
able. Burgundy  dare  not  offend  England,  matched, 
as  its  arms  are,  with  France;  the  Flemings  gain  more 
by  you  than  you  gain  by  the  Flemings,  and  those  in- 
terested burghers  will  not  suffer  any  prince's  quarrel 
to  damage  their  commerce.  Charolois  may  bluster 
and  threat,  but  the  storm  will  pass,  and  Burgundy  will 
be  contented,  if  England  remain  neutral  in  the  feud 
with  France.  All  these  reasons,  sire,  urge  me  to  sup- 
port my  private  foe,  the  Lord  Warwick,  and  to  pray 
you  to  give  no  ear  to  the  discrediting  his  honour  and 
his  embassy." 

The  profound  sagacity  of  these  remarks,  the  repute 
of  the  speaker,  and  the  well-known  grudge  between 
him  and  Warwick,  for  reasons  hereafter  to  be  ex- 
plained, produced  a  strong  effect  upon  the  intellect  of 
Edward,  always  vigorous,  save  when  clouded  with 
passion.  But  Rivers,  whose  malice  to  the  earl  was 
indomitable,  coldly  recommenced. 

"  With  submission  to  the  Lord  Hastings,  sire,  whom 
we  know  that  love  sometimes  blinds,  and  whose  alle- 
giance to  the  earl's  fair  sister,  the  Lady  of  Bonville, 
perchance  somewhat  moves  him  to  forget  the  day  when 
Lord  Warwick " 

"  Cease,  my  lord,"  said  Hastings,  white  with  sup- 


250  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

pressed  anger;  "  these  references  beseem  not  the  coun- 
cils of  grave  men." 

"  Tut,  Hastings,"  said  Edward,  laughing  merrily — 
"women  mix  themselves  up  in  all  things:  board  or 
council,  bed  or  battle — wherever  there  is  mischief  astir, 
there,  be  sure,  peeps  a  woman's  sly  face  from  her  wim- 
ple. Go  on,  Rivers." 

"  Your  pardon,  my  Lord  Hastings,"  said  Rivers — 
"I  knew  not  my  thrust  went  so  home;  there  is  an- 
other letter  I  have  not  yet  laid  before  the  king."  He 
drew  forth  a  scroll  from  his  bosom,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"  Yesterday  the  earl  feasted  the  king,  and  as,  in  dis- 
charge of  mine  office,  I  carved  for  my  lord,  I  heard 
King  Louis  say — '  Pasque  Dieu,  my  Lord  Warwick ; 
our  couriers  bring  us  word  that  Count  Charolois  de- 
clares he  shall  yet  wed  the  Lady  Margaret,  and  that 
he  laughs  at  your  ambassage.  What  if  our  brother, 
King  Edward,  fall  back  from  the  treaty  ?  '  '  He  durst 
not!'  said  the  earl." 

"Durst  not!"  exclaimed  Edward,  starting  to  his 
feet,  and  striking  the  table  with  his  clenched  hand, 
"  Durst  not!  Hastings,  hear  you  that?" 

Hastings  bowed  his  head,  in  assent.  "  Is  that  all, 
Lord  Rivers?  " 

"All!  and  methinks  enough." 

"Enough,  by  my  halidame!"  said  Edward,  laugh- 
ing bitterly;  "he  shall  see  what  a  king  dares,  when  a 
subject  threatens.  Admit  the  worshipful  the  deputies 
from  our  city  of  London — lord  chamberlain,  it  is  thine 
office — they  await  in  the  ante-room." 

Hastings  gravely  obeyed,  and  in  crimson  gowns, 
with  purple  hoods  and  gold  chains,  marshalled  into 
the  king's  presence  a  goodly  deputation  from  the  vari- 
ous corporate  companies  of  London. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  251 

These  personages  advanced  within  a  few  paces  of 
the  dais,  and  there  halted  and  knelt,  while  their 
spokesman  read,  on  his  knees,  a  long  petition,  praying 
the  king  to  take  into  his  gracious  consideration  the 
state  of  the  trade  with  the  Flemings;  and  though  not 
absolutely  venturing  to  name  or  to  deprecate  the  med- 
itated alliance  with  France,  beseeching  his  grace  to 
satisfy  them  as  to  certain  rumours,  already  very  prej- 
udicial to  their  commerce,  of  the  possibility  of  a 
breach  with  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  The  merchant- 
king  listened  with  great  attention  and  affability  to  this 
petition ;  and  replied,  shortly,  that  he  thanked  the  dep- 
utation for  their  zeal  for  the  public  weal — that  a  king 
would  have  enough  to  do  if  he  contravened  every  gos- 
sip's tale;  but  that  it  was  his  firm  purpose  to  protect, 
in  all  ways,  the  London  traders,  and  to  maintain  the 
most  amicable  understanding  with  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy. 

The  supplicators  then  withdrew  from  the  royal  pres- 
ence. 

"  Note  you  ho\^  gracious  the  king  was  to  me? " 
whispered  Master  i^.yford  to  one  of  his  brethren; 
"  he  looked  at  me  while  he  answered." 

"  Coxcomb !  "  muttered  the  confidant,  "  as  if  I  did 
not  catch  his  eye  when  he  said,  '  Ye  are  the  pillars  of 
the  public  weal/  But  because  Master  Heyford  has  a 
handsome  wife,  he  thinks  he  tosseth  all  London  on  his 
own  horns!  " 

As  the  citizens  were  quitting  the  palace,  Lord  Rivers 
joined  them.  "  You  will  thank  me  for  suggesting  this 
deputation,  worthy  sirs,"  said  he,  smiling  significant- 
ly ;  "  you  have  timed  it  well !  " — and  passing  by  them, 
without  further  comment,  he  took  the  way  to  the 
queen's  chamber. 


252  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

Elizabeth  was  playing  with  her  infant  daughter, 
tossing  the  child  in  the  air,  and  laughing  at  its  riotous 
laughter.  The  stern  old  Duchess  of  Bedford,  leaning 
over  the  back  of  the  state-chair,  looked  on  with  all  a 
grandmother's  pride,  and  half  chanted  a  nursery 
rhyme.  It  was  a  sight  fair  to  see!  Elizabeth  never 
seemed  more  lovely:  her  artificial,  dissimulating  smile, 
changed  into  hearty,  maternal  glee;  her  smooth  cheek 
flushed  with  exercise,  a  stray  ringlet  escaping  from 
the  stiff  coif! — And,  alas,  the  moment  the  two  ladies 
caught  sight  of  Rivers,  all  the  charm  was  dissolved — 
the  child  was  hastily  put  on  the  floor — the  queen,  half 
ashamed  of  being  natural,  even  before  her  father, 
smoothed  back  the  rebel  lock,  and  the  duchess,  break- 
ing off  in  the  midst  of  her  grandam  song,  exclaimed, — 

"  Well,  well ! — how  thrives  our  policy  ?  " 

"  The  king,"  answered  Rivers,  "  is  in  the  very  mood 
we  could  desire.  At  the  words,  '  He  durst  not! '  the 
Plantagenet  sprung  up  in  his  breast;  and  now,  lest  he 
ask  to  see  the  rest  of  the  letter,  thus  I  destroy  it ;  " — 
and  flinging  the  scroll  in  the  blazing  hearth,  he 
watched  it  consume. 

"  Why  this,  sir?  "  said  the  queen. 

"  Because,  my  Elizabeth,  the  bold  words  glided  off 
into  a  decent  gloss — 'He  durst  not'  said  Warwick, 
'  because  what  a  noble  heart  dares  least  is  to  belie  the 
plighted  word,  and  what  the  kind  heart  shuns  most  is 
to  wrong  the  confiding  friend.' ' 

"  It  was  fortunate,"  said  the  duchess,  "  that  Edward 
took  heat  at  the  first  words,  nor  stopped,  it  seems,  for 
the  rest!" 

"I  was  prepared,  Jacquetta; — had  he  asked  to  see 
the  rest,  I  should  have  dropped  the  scroll  into  the 
brazier,  as  containing  what  I  would  not  presume  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  253 

read.  Courage!  Edward  has  seen  the  merchants;  he 
has  flouted  Hastings — who  would  gainsay  us.  For 
the  rest,  Elizabeth,  be  it  yours  to  speak  of  affronts  paid 
by  the  earl  to  your  highness;  be  it  yours,  Jacquetta, 
to  rouse  Edward's  pride  by  dwelling  on  Warwick's 
overweening  power.  Be  it  mine  to  enlist  his  interest 
on  behalf  of  his  merchandise;  be  it  Margaret's,  to  move 
his  heart  by  soft  tears  for  the  bold  Charolois;  and  ere 
a  month  be  told,  Warwick  shall  find  his  embassy  a 
thriftless  laughing-stock,  and  no  shade  pass  between 
the  house  of  Woodville  and  the  sun  of  England." 

"  I  am  scarce  queen  while  Warwick  is  minister," 
said  Elizabeth,  vindictively.  "  How  he  taunted  me  in 
the  garden,  when  we  met  last!  "  . 

"  But  hark  you,  daughter  and  lady  liege,  hark  you! 
Edward  is  not  prepared  for  the  decisive  stroke.  I 
have  arranged  with  Anthony,  whose  chivalrous  follies 
fit  him  not  for  full  comprehension  of  our  objects,  how 
upon  fair  excuse  the  heir  of  Burgundy's  brother — the 
Count  de  la  Roche — shall  visit  London;  and  the  count 
once  here,  all  is  ours!  Hush!  take  up  the  little  one — 
Edward  comes!  " 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEREIN  MASTER  NICHOLAS  ALWYN  VISITS  THE 
COURT,  AND  THERE  LEARNS  MATTER  OF  WHICH  THE 
ACUTE  READER  WILL  JUDGE  FOR  HIMSELF 

It  was  a  morning  towards  the  end  of  May  (some  lit- 
tle time  after  Edward's  gracious  reception  of  the  Lon- 
don deputies),  when  Nicholas  Alwyn,  accompanied  by 
two  servitors  armed  to  the  teeth — for  they  carried  with 
them  goods  of  much  value,  and  even  in  the  broad 


254  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

daylight,  and  amidst  the  most  frequented  parts  of  the 
city,  men  still  confided  little  in  the  security  of  the  law, 
— arrived  at  the  Tower,  and  was  conducted  to  the 
presence  of  the  queen. 

Elizabeth  and  her  mother  were  engaged  in  animated 
but  whispered  conversation,  when  the  goldsmith  en- 
tered; and  there  was  an  unusual  gaiety  in  the  queen's 
countenance  as  she  turned  to  Alwyn  and  bade  him 
show  her  his  newest  gauds. 

While,  with  a  curiosity  and  eagerness  that  seemed 
almost  childlike,  Elizabeth  turned  over  rings,  chains, 
and  brooches,  scarcely  listening  to  Alwyn's  comments 
on  the  lustre  of  the  gems  or  the  quaintness  of  the  fash- 
ion, the  duchess  disappeared  for  a  moment,  and  re- 
turned with  the  Princess  Margaret. 

This  young  princess  had  much  of  the  majestic 
beauty  of  her  royal  brother,  but,  instead  of  the  frank, 
careless  expression  so  fascinating  in  Edward,  there 
was,  in  her  full  and  curved  lip,  and  bright  large  eye, 
something  at  once  of  haughtiness  and  passion,  which 
spoke  a  decision  and  vivacity  of  character  beyond  her 
years. 

"  Choose  for  thyself,  sweetheart  and  daughter  mine," 
said  the  duchess,  affectionately  placing  her  hand  on 
Margaret's  luxuriant  hair,  "  and  let  the  noble  visitor 
we  await  confess  that  our  rose  of  England  outblooms 
the  world." 

The  princess  coloured  with  complaisant  vanity  at 
these  words,  and,  drawing  near  the  queen,  looked  si- 
lently at  a  collar  of  pearls,  which  Elizabeth  held. 

"  If  I  may  adventure  so  to  say,"  observed  Alwyn, 
"pearls  will  mightily  beseem  her  highness's  youthful 
bloom!  and  lo!  here  be  some  adornments  for  the  bod- 
ice or  partelet,  to  sort  with  the  collar;  not,"  added  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  255 

goldsmith,  bowing  low,  and  looking  down,  "  not,  per- 
chance, displeasing  to  her  highness,  in  that  they  are 
wrought  in  the  guise  of  the  fleur  de  lis " 

An  impatient  gesture  in  the  queen,  and  a  sudden 
cloud  over  the  fair  brow  of  Margaret,  instantly  betok- 
ened to  the  shrewd  trader  that  he  had  committed  some 
most  unwelcome  error  in  this  last  allusion  to  the  alli- 
ance with  King  Louis  of  France,  which,  according  to 
rinnour,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  had  well  nigh  brought 
to  a  successful  negotiation;  and  to  convince  him  yet 
more  of  his  mistake,  the  duchess  said  haughtily — 
"  Good  fellow,  be  contented  to  display  thy  goods,  and 
i»pare  us  thy  comments.  As  for  thy  hideous  fleur 
de  lis,  an'  thy  master  had  no  better  device,  he  would 
not  long  rest  the  king's  jeweller?  " 

"  I  have  no  heart  for  the  pearls,"  said  Margaret  ab- 
ruptly; "  they  are  at  best  pale  and  sicklied.  What  hast 
thou  of  bolder  ornament,  and  more  dazzling  lustrous- 
ness?" 

"  These  emeralds,  it  is  said,  were  once  among  the 
jewels  of  the  great  house  of  Burgundy,"  observed 
Nicholas,  slowly,  and  fixing  his  keen,  sagacious  look 
on  the  royal  purchasers. 

"  Of  Burgundy!  "  exclaimed  the  queen. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  looking 
at  the  ornament  with  care,  and  slightly  colouring — 
for,  in  fact,  the  jewels  had  been  a  present  from  Philip 
the  Good  to  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  and  the  exigencies 
of  the  civil  wars  had  led,  some  time  since,  first,  to  their 
mortgage,  or  rather  pawn,  and  then  to  their  sale. 

The  princess  passed  her  arm  affectionately  round 
Jacquetta's  neck,  and  said,  "  If  you  leave  me  my 
choice,  I  will  have  none  but  these  emeralds." 

The  two  elder  ladies  exchanged  looks  and  smiles. 


256  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Hast  thou  travelled,  young  man? "  asked  the 
duchess. 

"  Not  in  foreign  parts,  gracious  lady,  but  I  have 
lived  much  with  those  who  have  been  great  wan- 
derers." 

"Ah!  and  what  say  they  of  the  ancient  friends  of 
mine  house,  the  princes  of  Burgundy  ?  " 

"  Lady,  all  men  agree  that  a  nobler  prince  and  a 
juster  than  Duke  Philip  never  reigned  over  brave 
men;  and  those  who  have  seen  the  wisdom  of  his  rule, 
grieve  sorely  to  think  so  excellent  and  mighty  a  lord 
should  have  trouble  brought  to  his  old  age  by  the 
turbulence  of  his  son,  the  Count  of  Charolois." 

Again  Margaret's  fair  brow  lowered,  and  the 
duchess  hastened  to  answer — "  The  disputes  between 
princes,  young  man,  can  never  be  rightly  understood 
by  such  as  thou  and  thy  friends.  The  Count  of  Cha- 
rolois is  a  noble  gentleman  ;  and  fire  in  youth  will  break 
out.  Richard  the  lion-hearted  of  England  was  not 
less  puissant  a  king  for  the  troubles  he  occasioned  to 
his  sire  when  prince." 

Alwyn  bit  his  lip,  to  restrain  a  reply  that  might  not 
have  been  well  received;  and  the  queen,  putting  aside 
the  emeralds  and  a  few  other  trinkets,  said,  smilingly, 
to  the  duchess,  "  Shall  the  king  pay  for  these,  or  have 
thy  learned  men  yet  discovered  the  great  secret?  " 

"  Nay,  wicked  child,"  said  the  duchess,  "  thou  lovest 
to  banter  me;  and  truth  to  say,  more  gold  has  been 
melted  in  the  crucible  than  as  yet  promises  ever  to 
come  out  of  it;  but  my  new  alchemist,  Master  Warner, 
seems  to  have  gone  nearer  to  the  result  than  any  I 
have  yet  known.  Meanwhile  the  king's  treasurer 
must,  perforce,  supply  the  gear  to  the  king's  sister." 

The  queen  wrote  an  order  on  the  officer  thus  referred 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  257 

to,  who  was  no  other  than  her  own  father,  Lord 
Rivers;  and  Alwyn,  putting  up  his  goods,  was  about 
to  withdraw,  when  the  duchess  said,  carelessly,  "  Good 
youth,  the  dealings  of  our  merchants  are  more  with 
Flanders  than  with  France — is  it  not  so?  " 

"  Surely,"  said  Alwyn,  "  the  Flemings  are  good 
traders  and  honest  folk." 

"  It  is  well  known,  I  trust,  in  the  city  of  London, 
that  this  new  alliance  with  France  is  the  work  of  their 
favourite,  the  Lord  Warwick,"  said  the  duchess,  scorn- 
fully; "  but  whatever  the  earl  does  is  right  with  ye  of 
the  hood  and  cap,  even  though  he  were  to  leave  yon 
river  without  one  merchant-mast." 

"  Whatever  be  our  thoughts,  puissant  lady,"  said 
Alwyn,  cautiously,  "  we  give  them  not  vent  to  the 
meddling  with  state  affairs." 

"  Ay,"  persisted  Jacquetta,  "  thine  answer  is  loyal 
and  discreet.  But  an'  the  Lord  Warwick  had  sought 
alliance  with  the  Count  of  Charolois,  would  there  have 
been  brighter  bonfires  than  ye  will  see  in  Smithfield, 
when  ye  hear  that  business  with  the  Flemings  is  sur- 
rendered for  fine  words  from  King  Louis  the  Cun- 
ning? " 

"  We  trust  too  much  to  our  king's  love  for  the  cit- 
izens of  London  to  fear  that  surrender,  please  your 
highness,"  answered  Alwyn;  "our  king  himself  is  the 
first  of  our  merchants,  and  he  hath  given  a  gracious 
answer  to  the  deputation  from  our  city." 

"  You  speak  wisely,  sir,"  said  the  queen ;  "  and  your 
king  will  yet  defend  you  from  the  plots  of  your  ene- 
mies. You  may  retire." 

Alwyn,  glad  to  be  released  from  questionings  but 
little  to  his  taste,  hastened  to  depart.  At  the  gate  of 
the  royal  lodge,  he  gave  his  caskets  to  the  servitors 
VOL.  I.— 17 


258  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

who  attended  him,  and  passing  slowly  along  the  court- 
yard, thus  soliloquised: — 

"  Our  neighbours  the  Scotch  say,  '  It  is  good  fishing 
in  muddy  waters;'  but  he  who  fishes  into  the  secrets 
of  courts  must  bait  with  his  head.  What  mischief  doth 
that  crafty  quean — the  proud  duchess — devise  ?  Um  ! 
They  are  thinking  still  to  match  the  young  princess 
with  the  hot  Count  of  Charolois.  Better  for  trade,  it 
is  true,  to  be  hand  in  hand  with  the  Flemings;  but 
there  are  two  sides  to  a  loaf.  If  they  play  such  a  trick 
on  the  stout  earl,  he  is  not  a  man  to  sit  down  and  do 
nothing.  More  food  for  the  ravens,  I  fear — more 
brown  bills  and  bright  lances  in  the  green  fields  of  poor 
England! — and  King  Louis  is  an  awful  carle,  to  sow 
flax  in  his  neighbour's  house,  when  the  torches  are 
burning.  Um!  Here  is  fair  Marmaduke.  He  looks 
brave  in  his  gay  supertunic.  Well,  sir,  and  foster- 
brother,  how  fare  you  at  court?  " 

"  My  dear  Nicholas,  a  merry  welcome  and  hearty 
to  your  sharp,  thoughtful  face.  Ah,  man!  we  shall 
have  a  gay  time  for  you  venders  of  gewgaws.  There 
are  to  be  revels  and  jousts — revels  in  the  Tower,  and 
jousts  in  Smithfield.  We  gentles  are  already  hard  at 
practice  in  the  tilt-yard." 

"  Sham  battles  are  better  than  real  ones,  Master 
Nevile !  But  what  is  in  the  wind  ?  " 

"  A  sail,  Nicholas!  a  sail,  bound  to  England!  Know 
that  the  Count  of  Charolois  has  permitted  Sir  Anthony 
Count  de  la  Roche,  his  bastard  brother,  to  come  over 
to  London,  to  cross  lances  with  our  own  Sir  Anthony 
Lord  Scales.  It  is  an  old  challenge,  and  right  royally 
will  the  encounter  be  held." 

"Um!"  muttered  Alwyn — "this  bastard,  then,  is 
the  carrier  pigeon.  And,"  said  he,  aloud — "  is  it  only 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  259 

to  exchange  hard  blows  that  Sir  Anthony  of  Burgundy 
comes  over  to  confer  with  Sir  Anthony  of  England? 
Is  there  no  court  rumour  of  other  matters  between 
them?" 

"Nay.  What  else?  Plague  on  you  craftsmen? 
You  cannot  even  comprehend  the  pleasure  and  pas- 
time two  knights  take  in  the  storm  of  the  lists !  " 

"  I  humbly  avow  it,  Master  Nevile.  But  it  seem- 
eth,  indeed,  strange  to  me  that  the  Count  of  Charolois 
should  take  this  very  moment  to  send  envoys  of  cour- 
tesy, when  so  sharp  a  slight  has  been  put  on  his  pride, 
and  so  dangerous  a  blow  struck  at  his  interests,  as  the 
alliance  between  the  French  prince  and  the  Lady  Mar- 
garet. Bold  Charles  has  some  cunning,  I  trow,  which 
your  kinsman  of  Warwick  is  not  here  to  detect." 

"  Tush,  man !  Trade,  I  see,  teaches  ye  all  so  to 
cheat  and  overreach,  that  ye  suppose  a  knight's  burgo- 
not  is  as  full  of  tricks  and  traps  as  a  citizen's  flat-cap. 
Would,  though,  that  my  kinsmen  of  Warwick  were 
here,"  added  Marmaduke,  in  a  low  whisper,  "  for  the 
women  and  the  courtiers  are  doing  their  best  to  belie 
him." 

"  Keep  thyself  clear  of  them  all,  Marmaduke,"  said 
Alwyn;  "for,  by  the  Lord,  I  see  that  the  evil  days  are 
coming  once  more,  fast  and  dark,  and  men  like  thee 
will  again  have  to  choose  between  friend  and  friend, 
kinsman  and  king.  For  my  part,  I  say  nothing;  for 
I  love  not  fighting,  unless  compelled  to  it.  But  if  ever 
I  do  fight,  it  will  not  be  by  thy  side,  under  Warwick's 
broad  flag." 

"  Eh,  man  ?  "  interrupted  the  Nevile. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  continued  Nicholas,  shaking  his  head, 
"  I  admire  the  great  earl,  and  were  I  lord  or  gentle, 
the  great  earl  should  be  my  chief.  But  each  to  his 


260  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

order;  and  the  trader's  tree  grows  not  out  of  a  baron's 
walking-staff.  King  Edward  may  be  a  stern  ruler, 
but  he  is  a  friend  to  the  goldsmiths,  and  has  just  con- 
firmed our  charter.  Let  every  man  praise  the  bridge 
he  goes  over,  as  the  saw  saith.  Truce  to  this  talk, 
Master  Nevile.  I  hear  that  your  young  hostess — 
ehem — Mistress  Sibyll,  is  greatly  marvelled  at  among 
the  court  gallants — is  it  so?" 

Marmaduke's  frank  face  grew  gloomy.  "  Alas,  dear 
foster-brother,"  he  said,  dropping  the  somewhat  affect- 
ed tone  in  which  he  had  before  spoken, — "  I  must  con- 
fess, to  my  shame,  that  I  cannot  yet  get  the  damsel  out 
of  my  thoughts,  which  is  what  I  consider  it  a  point  of 
manhood  and  spirit  to  achieve." 

"How  so?" 

"  Because,  when  a  maiden  chooseth  steadily  to  say 
nay  to  your  wooing — to  follow  her  heels,  and  whine 
and  beg,  is  a  dog's  duty,  not  a  man's." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Alwyn,  in  a  voice  of  great 
eagerness — "  mean  you  to  say  that  you  have  wooed 
Sibyll  Warner  as  your  wife  ?  " 

"Verily,  yes!" 

"And  failed?" 

"  And  failed." 

"Poor  Marmaduke!" 

"  There  is  '  no  poor '  in  the  matter,  Nick  Alwyn," 
returned  Marmaduke,  sturdily ;  "  if  a  girl  likes  me, 
well; — if  not,  there  are  too  many  others  in  the  wide 
world,  for  a  young  fellow  to  break  his  heart  about  one. 
Yet,"  he  added,  after  a  short  pause,  and  with  a  sigh, 
— "  yet,  if  thou  hast  not  seen  her  since  she  came  to  the 
court,  thou  wilt  find  her  wondrously  changed." 

"  More's  the  pity!  "  said  Alwyn,  reciprocating  his 
friend's  sigh. 


26 1 

"  I  mean  that  she  seems  all  the  comelier  for  the  court 
air.  And  beshrew  me,  I  think  the  Lord  Hastings, 
with  his  dulcet  flatteries,  hath  made  it  a  sort  of  frenzy 
for  all  the  gallants  to  flock  round  her." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Master  Warner  again,"  said 
Alwyn; — "  where  lodges  he?  " 

"  Yonder — by  the  little  postern,  on  the  third  flight 
of  the  turret  that  flanks  the  corridor,*  next  to  Friar 
Bungey,  the  magician;  but  it  is  broad  daylight,  and 
therefore  not  so  dangerous — not  but  thou  mayest  as 
well  patter  an  Ave  in  going  upstairs." 

"  Farewell,  Master  Nevile,"  said  Alwyn,  smiling; 
"  I  will  seek  the  mechanician,  and  if  I  find  there  Mis- 
tress Sibyll,  what  shall  I  say  from  thee?  " 

"  That  young  bachelors  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV. 
will  never  want  fair  feres,"  answered  the  Nevile,  deb- 
bonairly  smoothing  his  lawn  partelet. 


CHAPTER  IV 

EXHIBITING  THE  BENEFITS  WHICH  ROYAL  PATRONAGE 
CONFERS  ON  GENIUS.  ALSO  THE  EARLY  LOVES  OF 
THE  LORD  HASTINGS;  WITH  OTHER  MATTERS  EDIFY- 
ING AND  DELECTABLE 

The  furnace  was  still  at  work,  the  flame  glowed,  the 
bellows  heaved,  but  these  were  no  longer  ministering 
to  the  service  of  a  mighty  and  practical  invention. 
The  mathematician — the  philosopher — had  descended 
to  the  alchemist.  The  nature  of  the  TIME  had  con- 
quered the  nature  of  a  GENIUS  meant  to  subdue  time. 
Those  studies  that  had  gone  so  far  to  forestall  the 

*  This  description  refers  to  that  part  of  the  Tower  called 
the  King's  or  Queen's  Lodge,  and  long  since  destroyed. 


262  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

master-triumph  of  far  later  ages,  were  exchanged  for 
occupations  that  played  with  the  toys  of  infant  wis- 
dom. O !  true  Tartarus  of  Genius — when  its  ener- 
gies are  misapplied,  when  the  labour  but  rolls  the 
stone  up  the  mountain,  but  pours  water  upon  water 
through  the  sieve ! 

There  is  a  sanguineness  in  men  of  great  intellect, 
which  often  leads  them  into  follies  avoided  by  the 
dull.  When  Adam  Warner  saw  the  ruin  of  his  con- 
trivance ;  when  he  felt  that  time  and  toil,  and  money 
were  necessary  to  its  restoration ;  and  when  the  gold 
he  lacked  was  placed  before  him  as  a  reward  for  al- 
chemical labours — he  at  first  turned  to  alchemy,  as 
he  would  have  turned  to  the  plough — as  he  had 
turned  to  conspiracy — simply  as  a  means  to  his  dar- 
ling end.  But  by  rapid  degrees  the  fascination  which 
all  the  elder  sages  experienced  in  the  grand  secret, 
exercised  its  witchery  over  his  mind.  If  Roger  Ba- 
con, though  catching  the  notion  of  the  steam-engine, 
devoted  himself  to  the  philosopher's  stone — if  even 
in  so  much  more  enlightened  an  age,  Newton  had 
wasted  some  precious  hours  in  the  transmutation  of 
metals,  it  was  natural  that  the  solitary  sage  of  the 
reign  of  Edward  IV.  should  grow,  for  a  while  at  least, 
wedded  to  a  pursuit  which  promised  results  so  august. 
And  the  worst  of  alchemy  is,  that  it  always  allures  on 
its  victims :  one  gets  so  near,  and  so  near  the  object 
— it  seems  that  so  small  an  addition  will  complete  the 
sum !  So  there  he  was — this  great  practical  genius, 
hard  at  work  on  turning  copper  into  gold ! 

"  Well,  Master  Warner,"  said  the  young  gold- 
smith, entering  the  student's  chamber — "  methinks 
you  scarcely  remember  your  friend  and  visitor,  Nich- 
olas Alwyn  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  263 

"  Remember,  oh,  certes !  doubtless  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen present  when  they  proposed  to  put  me  to  the 
brake  * — please  to  stand  a  little  on  this  side — what  is 
your  will  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  a  gentleman,  and  I  should  have  been 
loth  to  stand  idly  by  when  the  torture  was  talked  of, 
for  a  free-born  Englishman,  let  alone  a  scholar.  And 
where  is  your  fair  daughter,  Master  Warner?  I  sup- 
pose you  see  but  little  of  her  now  she  is  the  great 
dame's  waiting-damsel?" 

"And  why  so,  Master  Alwyn?"  asked  a  charming 
voice;  and  Alwyn,  for  the  first  time,  perceived  the 
young  form  of  Sibyll,  by  the  embrasure  of  a  window, 
from  which  might  be  seen  in  the  court  below,  a  gay 
group  of  lords  and  courtiers,  with  the  plain,  dark  dress 
of  Hastings,  contrasting  their  gaudy  surcoats,  glitter- 
ing with  cloth  of  gold.  Alwyn's  tongue  clove  to  his 
mouth ;  all  he  had  to  say  was  forgotten  in  a  certain 
bashful  and  indescribable  emotion. 

The  alchemist  had  returned  to  his  furnace,  and  the 
young  man  and  the  girl  were  as  much  alone  as  if 
Adam  Warner  had  been  in  heaven. 

"  And  why  should  the  daughter  forsake  the  sire 
more  in  a  court  where  love  is  rare,  than  in  the  hum- 
bler home,  where  they  may  need  each  other  less  ?  " 

"  I  thank  thee  for  the  rebuke,  mistress,"  said  Al- 
wyn, delighted  with  her  speech ;  "  for  I  should  have 
been  sorry  to  see  thy  heart  spoiled  by  the  vanities 
that  kill  most  natures."  Scarcely  had  he  uttered  these 
words,  than  they  seemed  to  him  overbold  and  pre- 
suming ;  for  his  eye  now  took  in  the  great  change  of 
which  Marmaduke  had  spoken.  Sibyll's  dress  be- 
seemed the  new  rank  which  she  held:  the  corset, 
*  Brake,  the  old  word  for  rack. 


264  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

fringed  with  gold,  and  made  of  the  finest  thread, 
showed  the  exquisite  contour  of  the  throat  and  neck, 
whose  ivory  it  concealed.  The  kirtle  of  rich  blue 
became  the  fair  complexion  and  dark  chestnut  hair; 
and  over  all  she  wore  that  most  graceful  robe  called 
the  sasquenice,  of  which  the  old  French  poet  sang: 

"  Car  nulle  robe  n'est  si  belle, 
A  dame  ne  a  demoiselle." 

This  garment,  worn  over  the  rest  of  the  dress,  had 
perhaps  a  classical  origin,  and  with  slight  variations, 
may  be  seen  on  the  Etruscan  vases ;  it  was  long  and 
loose — of  the  whitest  and  finest  linen — with  hanging 
sleeves,  and  open  at  the  sides.  But  it  was  not  the 
mere  dress  that  had  embellished  the  young  maiden's 
form  and  aspect — it  was  rather  an  indefinable  altera- 
tion in  the  expression  and  the  bearing.  She  looked 
as  if  born  to  the  air  of  courts  ;  still  modest,  indeed,  and 
simple — but  with  a  consciousness  of  dignity,  and  al- 
most of  power;  and  in  fact  the  woman  had  been 
taught  the  power  that  womanhood  possesses.  She 
had  been  admired,  followed,  flattered;  she  had 
learned  the  authority  of  beauty.  Her  accomplish- 
ments, uncommon  in  that  age  among  her  sex,  had 
aided  her  charm  of  person ;  her  natural  pride,  which, 
though  hitherto  latent,  was  high  and  ardent,  fed  her 
heart  with  sweet  hopes — a  bright  career  seemed  to 
extend  before  her;  and,  at  peace  as  to  her  father's 
safety — relieved  from  the  drudging  cares  of  poverty 
— her  fancy  was  free  to  follow  the  phantasms  of  san- 
guine youth  through  the  airy  land  of  dreams.  And 
therefore  it  was  that  the  maid  was  changed ! 

At  the  sight  of  the  delicate  beauty — the  self-pos- 
sessed expression — the  courtly  dress — the  noble  air 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  265 

of  Sibyll — Nicholas  Alwyn  recoiled,  and  turned  pale 
— he  no  longer  marvelled  at  her  rejection  of  Marma- 
duke,  and  he  started  at  the  remembrance  of  the  bold 
thoughts  which  he  had  dared  himself  to  indulge. 

The  girl  smiled  at  the  young  man's  confusion. 

"  It  is  not  prosperity  that  spoils  the  heart,"  she 
said,  touchingly,  "  unless  it  be  mean  indeed.  Thou 
rememberest,  Master  Alwyn,  that  when  God  tried  his 
saint,  it  was  by  adversity  and  affliction." 

"  May  thy  trial  in  these  last  be  over,"  answered  Al- 
wyn ;  "  but  the  humble  must  console  their  state  by 
thinking  that  the  great  have  their  trials  too;  and,  as 
our  homely  adage  hath  it,  '  That  is  not  always  good 
in  the  maw  which  is  sweet  in  the  mouth.'  Thou  seest 
much  of  my  gentle  foster-brother,  Mistress  Sibyll  ?  " 

"  But  in  the  court  dances,  Master  Alwyn ;  for  most 
of  the  hours  in  which  my  lady  duchess  needs  me  not 
are  spent  here.  Oh,  my  father  hopes  great  things ! 
and  now  at  last  fame  dawns  upon  him." 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,  mistress ;  and  so,  having  paid 
ye  both  my  homage,  I  take  my  leave,  praying  that  I 
may  visit  you  from  time  to  time,  if  it  be  only  to  con- 
sult this  worshipful  master,  touching  certain  improve- 
ments in  the  horologe,  in  which  his  mathematics  can 
doubtless  instruct  me — Farewell.  I  have  some  jew- 
els to  show  to  the  Lady  of  Bonville." 

"  The  Lady  of  Bonville  !  "  repeated  Sibyll,  changing 
colour ;  "  she  is  a  dame  of  notable  loveliness." 

"  So  men  say — and  mated  to  a  foolish  lord ;  but 
scandal,  which  spares  few,  breathes  not  on  her — rare 
praise  for  a  court  dame.  Few  houses  can  have  the 
boast  of  Lord  Warwick's — '  that  all  the  men  are  with- 
out fear,  and  all  the  women  without  stain.'  " 

"  It  is  said,"  observed  Sibyll,  looking  down,  "  that 


266  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

my  Lord  Hastings  once  much  affectioned  the  Lady 
Bonville.  Hast  thou  heard  such  gossip  ?  " 

"  Surely,  yes ;  in  the  city  we  hear  all  the  tales  of  the 
court ;  for  many  a  courtier,  following  King  Edward's 
exemplar,  dines  with  the  citizen  to-day,  that  he  may 
borrow  gold  from  the  citizen  to-morrow.  Surely, 
yes ;  and  hence,  they  say,  the  small  love  the  wise  Has- 
tings bears  to  the  stout  earl." 

"  How  runs  the  tale?     Be  seated,  Master  Alwyn." 

"  Marry,  thus,  when  William  Hastings  was  but  a 
squire,  and  much  favoured  by  Richard,  Duke  of  York, 
he  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  Lady  Katherine  Nevile,  sister 
to  the  Earl  of  Warwick ;  and  in  beauty  and  in  dower, 
as  in  birth,  a  mate  for  a  king's  son." 

"  And,  doubtless,  the  Lady  Katherine  returned  his 
love?" 

"  So  it  is  said,  maiden ;  and  the  Earl  of  Salisbury 
her  father,  and  Lord  Warwick  her  brother,  discovered 
the  secret,  and  swore  that  no  new  man  (the  stout  earl's 
favourite  word  of  contempt),  though  he  were  made 
a  duke,  should  give  to  an  upstart  posterity  the  quar- 
terings  of  Montagu  and  Nevile.  Marry,  Mistress 
Sibyll,  there  is  a  north  country  and  pithy  proverb, 
'  Happy  is  the  man  whose  father  went  to  the  devil.' 
Had  some  old  Hastings  been  a  robber  and  extor- 
tioner, and  left  to  brave  William  the  heirship  of  his 
wickedness  in  lordships  and  lands,  Lord  Warwick  had 
not  called  him  '  a  new  man.'  Master  Hastings  was 
dragged,  like  a  serf's  son,  before  the  earl  on  his  dais ; 
and  be  sure  he  was  rated  soundly,  for  his  bold  blood 
was  up,  and  he  defied  the  earl,  as  a  gentleman  born, 
to  single  battle.  Then  the  earl's  followers  would 
have  fallen  on  him ;  and  in  those  days,  under  King 
Henry,  he  who  bearded  a  baron  in  his  hall  must  have 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  267 

a  troop  at  his  back,  or  was  like  to  have  a  rope  round 
his  neck ;  but  the  earl  (for  the  lion  is  not  as  fierce  as 
they  paint  him)  came  down  from  his  dais,  and  said, 
'  Man,  I  like  thy  spirit,  and  I  myself  will  dub  thee 
knight,  that  I  may  pick  up  thy  glove  and  give  thee 
battle.'  " 

"  And  they  fought  ?     Brave  Hastings  !  " 

"  No.  For,  whether  the  Duke  of  York  forbade  it, 
or  whether  the  Lady  Katherine  would  not  hear  of 
such  strife  between  fere  and  frere,  I  know  not ;  but 
Duke  Richard  sent  Hastings  to  Ireland,  and,  a  month 
after,  the  Lady  Katherine  married  Lord  Bonville's 
son  and  heir — so,  at  least  tell  the  gossips  and  sing 
the  ballad-mongers.  Men  add,  that  Lord  Hastings 
still  loves  the  dame,  though,  certes,  he  knows  how  to 
console  himself." 

}'  Loves  her !  Nay,  nay, — I  trow  not,"  answered 
Sibyll,  in  a  low  voice,  and  with  a  curl  of  her  dewy  lip. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  gently  and  Lord 
Hastings  himself  entered.  He  came  in  with  the  fa- 
miliarity of  one  accustomed  to  the  place. 

"  And  how  fares  the  grand  secret,  Master  Warner? 
— Sweet  mistress !  thou  seemest  lovelier  to  me  in  this 
dark  chamber  than  outshining  all  in  the  galliard.  Ha  ! 
Master  Alwyn,  I  owe  thee  many  thanks  for  making 
me  know  first  the  rare  arts  of  this  fair  emblazoner. 
Move  me  yon  stool,  good  Alwyn." 

As  the  goldsmith  obeyed,  he  glanced  from  Has- 
tings to  the  blushing  face  and  heaving  bosom  of 
Sibyll,  and  a  deep  and  exquisite  pang  shot  through 
his  heart.  It  was  not  jealousy  alone ;  it  was  anxiety, 
compassion,  terror.  The  powerful  Hastings  —  the 
ambitious  lord — the  accomplished  libertine — what  a 
fate  for  poor  Sibyll,  if  for  such  a  man  the  cheek 
blushed,  and  the  bosom  heaved ! 


268  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Well,  Master  Warner,"  resumed  Hastings,  "  thou 
art  still  silent  as  to  thy  progress." 

The  philosopher  uttered  an  impatient  groan. 

"  Ah,  I  comprehend.  The  goldmaker  must  not 
speak  of  his  craft  before  the  goldsmith.  Good  Alwyn, 
thou  mayest  retire.  All  arts  have  their  mysteries." 

Alwyn,  with  a  sombre  brow,  moved  to  the  door. 

"  In  sooth,"  he  said,  "  I  have  overtarried,  good  my 
lord.  The  Lady  Bonville  will  chide  me ;  for  she  is  of 
no  patient  temper." 

"  Bridle  thy  tongue,  artisan,  and  begone !  "  said 
Hastings,  with  unusual  haughtiness  and  petulance. 

"  I  stung  him  there,"  muttered  Alwyn,  as  he  with- 
drew— "  Oh !  fool  that  I  was  to — nay,  I  thought  it 
never,  I  did  but  dream  it.  What  wonder  we  traders 
hate  these  silken  lords.  They  reap — we  sow — they 
trifle — we  toil — they  steal  with  soft  words  into  the 
hearts  which — Oh !  Marmaduke,  thou  art  right — 
right ! — Stout  men  sit  not  down  to  weep  beneath  the 
willow.  But  she — the  poor  maiden  ! — she  looked  so 
haughty  and  so  happy.  This  is  early  May;  will  she 
wear  that  look  when  the  autumn  leaves  are  strewn  ?  " 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    WOODVILLE    INTRIGUE    PROSPERS MONTAGU    CON- 
FERS   WITH    HASTINGS VISITS    THE   ARCHBISHOP    OF 

YORK,    AND    IS    MET    ON    THE    ROAD    BY    A    STRANGE 
PERSONAGE 

And  now  the  one  topic  at  the  court  of  King  Edward 
IV.  was  the  expected  arrival  of  Anthony  of  Bur- 
gundy, Count  de  la  Roche,  bastard  brother  of  Charo- 
lois,  afterwards,  as  Duke  of  Burgundy,  so  famous  as 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  269 

Charles  the  Bold.  Few,  indeed,  out  of  the  immediate 
circle  of  the  Duchess  of  Bedford's  confidants,  re- 
garded the  visit  of  this  illustrious  foreigner  as  con- 
nected with  any  object  beyond  the  avowed  one  of 
chivalrous  encounter  with  Anthony  Woodville,  the 
fulfilment  of  a  challenge  given  by  the  latter  two  years 
before,  at  the  time  of  the  queen's  coronation.  The 
origin  of  this  challenge,  Anthony  Woodville  Lord 
Scales  has  himself  explained  in  a  letter  to  the  bas- 
tard, still  extant,  and  of  which  an  extract  may  be  seen 
in  the  popular  and  delightful  biographies  of  Miss 
Strickland.* 

It  seems  that,  on  the  Wednesday  before  Easter  Day, 
1465,  as  Sir  Anthony  was  speaking  to  his  royal  sister, 
"  on  his  knees,"  all  the  ladies  of  the  court  gathered 
round  him,  and  bound  to  his  left  knee  a  band  of  gold, 
adorned  with  stones  fashioned  into  the  letters  S.  S. 
(souvenance  or  remembrance),  and  to  this  band  was 
suspended  an  enamelled  "  Forget-me-not."  "  And 
one  of  the  ladies  said  that  '  he  ought  to  take  a  step 
fitting  for  the  times.' ':  This  step  was  denoted  by  a 
letter  on  vellum,  bound  with  a  gold  thread,  placed  in 
his  cap ;  and  having  obtained  the  king's  permission  to 
bring  the  adventure  of  the  flower  of  souvenance  to  a 
conclusion,  the  gallant  Anthony  forwarded  the  ar- 
ticles and  the  enamelled  flower  to  the  bastard  of  Bur- 
gundy, beseeching  him  to  touch  the  latter  with  his 
knightly  hand,  in  token  of  his  accepting  the  chal- 
lenge. The  Count  de  la  Roche  did  so,  but  was  not 
sent  by  his  brother  amongst  the  knights  whom  Charo- 
lois  despatched  to  England,  and  the  combat  had  been 
suspended  to  the  present  time. 

But  now  the  intriguing  Rivers  and  his  duchess 
*  "  Queens  of  England,"  vdl.  iii.  p.  380. 


270  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

gladly  availed  themselves  of  so  fair  a  pretext  for  intro- 
ducing to  Edward  the  able  brother  of  Warwick's  en- 
emy, and  the  French  prince's  rival,  Charles  of  Bur- 
gundy ;  and  Anthony  Woodville,  too  gentle  and 
knightly  a  person  to  have  abetted  their  cunning  proj- 
ects in  any  mode  less  chivalrous,  willingly  consented 
to  revive  a  challenge  in  honour  of  the  ladies  of  Eng- 
land. 

The  only  one  amongst  the  courtiers  who  seemed 
dissatisfied  with  the  meditated  visit  of  the  doughty 
Burgundian  champion  was  the  Lord  Montagu.  This 
penetrating  and  experienced  personage  was  not  to 
be  duped  by  an  affectation  of  that  chivalry  which, 
however  natural  at  the  court  of  Edward  III.,  was  no 
longer  in  unison  with  the  more  intriguing  and  am- 
bitious times  over  which  presided  the  luxurious  hus- 
band of  Elizabeth  Woodville.  He  had  noticed  of  late, 
with  suspicion,  that  Edward  had  held  several  councils 
with  the  anti-Nevile  faction,  from  which  he  himself 
was  excluded.  The  king,  who  heretofore  had  de- 
lighted in  his  companionship,  had  shown  him  marks 
of  coldness  and  estrangement,  and  there  was  an  ex- 
ulting malice  in  the  looks  of  the  Duchess  of  Bedford, 
which  augured  some  approaching  triumph  over  the 
great  family  which  the  Woodvilles  so  openly  laboured 
to  supplant.  One  day,  as  Marmaduke  was  loitering 
in  the  courtyard  of  the  Tower,  laughing  and  jesting 
with  his  friends,  Lord  Montagu,  issuing  from  the 
king's  closet,  passed  him  with  a  hurried  step  and  a 
thoughtful  brow.  This  haughty  brother  of  the  Earl 
of  W'arwick  had  so  far  attended  to  the  recommenda- 
tion of  the  latter,  that  he  had  with  some  courtesy  ex- 
cused himself  to  Marmaduke  for  his  language  in  the 
archery-ground,  and  had  subsequently,  when  seeing 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  271 

him  in  attendance  on  the  king,  honoured  him  with  a 
stately  nod,  or  a  brief  "  Good  morrow,  young  kins- 
man." But  as  his  eye  now  rested  on  Marmaduke, 
while  the  group  vailed  their  bonnets  to  the  powerful 
courtier,  he  called  him  forth,  with  a  familiar  smile  he 
had  never  before  assumed,  and  drawing  him  apart, 
and  leaning  on  his  shoulder,  much  to  the  envy  of  the 
standers  by,  he  said,  caressingly — 

"  Dear  Kinsman  Guy " 

"  Marmaduke,  please  you,  my  lord. 

"  Dear  kinsman  Marmaduke,  my  brother  esteems 
you  for  your  father's  sake.  And,  sooth  to  say,  the 
Neviles  are  not  so  numerous  in  court  as  they  were. 
Business  and  state  matters  have  made  me  see  too  sel- 
dom those  whom  I  would  most  affect.  Wilt  thou  ride 
with  me  to  the  More  Park  ?  I  would  present  thee  to 
my  brother  the  archbishop." 

"  If  the  king  would  graciously  hold  me  excused." 

"  The  king,  sir !  when  / — I  forgot,"  said  Montagu, 
checking  himself — "  oh,  as  to  that,  the  king  stirs  not 
out  to-day !  He  hath  with  him  a  score  of  tailors  and 
armourers,  in  high  council  on  the  coming  festivities. 
I  will  warrant  thy  release ;  and  here  comes  Hastings, 
who  shall  confirm  it." 

"  Fair  my  lord !  " — as  at  that  moment  Hastings 
emerged  from  the  little  postern  that  gave  egress  from 
the  apartments  occupied  by  the  alchemist  of  the 
Duchess  of  Bedford — "  wilt  thou  be  pleased,  in  thy 
capacity  of  chamberlain,  to  sanction  my  cousin  in  a 
day's  absence?  I  would  confer  with  him  on  family 
matters." 

"  Certes,  a  small  favour  to  so  deserving  a  youth.  I 
will  see  to  his  deputy." 

"  A   word   with    you,    Hastings/'    said    Montagu, 


272  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

thoughtfully,  and  he  drew  aside  his  fellow  courtier: 
"  what  thinkest  thou  of  this  Burgundy  bastard's 
visit?" 

"  That  it  has  given  a  peacock's  strut  to  the  popin- 
jay, Anthony  Woodville." 

"  Would  that  were  all,"  returned  Montagu.  "  But 
the  very  moment  that  Warwick  is  negotiating  with 
Louis  of  France,  this  interchange  of  courtesies  with 
Louis's  deadly  foe,  the  Count  of  Charolois,  is  out  of 
season." 

"  Nay,  take  it  not  so  gravely — a  mere  pastime." 

"  Hastings,  thou  knowest  better.  But  thou  art  no 
friend  of  my  great  brother." 

"  Small  cause  have  I  to  be  so,"  answered  Hastings, 
with  a  quivering  lip.  "  To  him  and  your  father,  I  owe 
as  deep  a  curse  as  ever  fell  on  the  heart  of  man.  I 
have  lived  to  be  above  even  Lord  Warwick's  insult. 
Yet  young,  I  stand  amongst  the  warriors  and  peers 
of  England,  with  a  crest  as  haught,  and  a  scutcheon 
as  stainless  as  the  best.  I  have  drunk  deep  of  the 
world's  pleasures.  I  command,  as  I  list,  the  world's 
gaudy  pomps,  and  I  tell  thee,  that  all  my  success  in 
life  countervails  not  the  agony  of  the  hour,  when  all 
the  bloom  and  loveliness  of  the  earth  faded  into  win- 
ter, and  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved  was  sacrificed 
to  her  brother's  pride." 

The  large  drops  stood  on  the  pale  brow  of  the 
fortunate  noble  as  he  thus  spoke,  and  his  hollow 
voice  affected  even  the  worldly  Montagu. 

"  Tush,  Hastings !  "  said  Montagu,  kindly ;  "  these 
are  but  a  young  man's  idle  memories.  Are  we  not 
all  fated,  in  our  early  years,  to  love  in  vain? — even  I 
married  not  the  maiden  I  thought  the  fairest,  and 
held  the  dearest.  For  the  rest,  bethink  thee — thou 
wert  then  but  a  simple  squire." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  273 

"  But  of  as  ancient  and  pure  a  blood  as  ever  rolled 
its  fiery  essence  through  a  Norman's  veins." 

"  It  may  be  so ;  but  old  houses,  when  impoverished, 
are  cheaply  held.  And  thou  must  confess  thou  wert 
then  no  mate  for  Katherine.  Now,  indeed,  it  were 
different ;  now  a  Nevile  might  be  proud  to  call  Has- 
tings brother." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Hastings,  proudly — "  I  know  it, 
my  lord,  and  why?  Because  I  have  gold,  and  land, 
and  the  king's  love,  and  can  say,  as  the  Centurion  to 
my  fellow-man,  '  Do  this,  and  he  doeth  it ; '  and  yet 
I  tell  thee,  Lord  Montagu,  that  I  am  less  worthy  now 
the  love  of  beauty,  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  from 
a  noble  spirit,  than  I  was  then — when — the  simple 
squire — my  heart  full  of  truth  and  loyalty,  with  lips 
that  had  never  lied,  with  a  soul  never  polluted  by  un- 
worthy pleasures  or  mean  intrigues,  I  felt  that  Kath- 
erine Nevile  should  never  blush  to  own  her  fere  and 
plighted  lord  in  William  de  Hastings.  Let  this  pass 
— let  it  pass.  You  call  me  no  friend  to  Warwick. 
True !  but  I  am  a  friend  to  the  king  he  has  served,  and 
the  land  of  my  birth  to  which  he  has  given  peace ; 
and.  therefore,  not  till  Warwick  desert  Edward,  not 
till  he  wake  the  land  again  to  broil  and  strife,  will  I 
mingle  in  the  plots  of  those  who  seek  his  downfall. 
If,  in  my  office  and  stated  rank,  I  am  compelled  to 
countenance  the  pageant  of  this  mock  tournament, 
and  seem  to  honour  the  coming  of  the  Count  de  la 
Roche,  I  will  at  least  stand  aloof  and  free  from  all 
attempt  to  apply  a  gaudy  pageant  to  a  dangerous  pol- 
icy; and  on  this  pledge,  Montagu,  I  give  you  my 
knightly  hand." 

"  It  suffices,"  answered  Montagu,  pressing  the  hand 
extended  to  him.    "  But  the  other  day  I  heard  the 
VOL.  I.— 18 


274  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

king's  dissour  tell  him  a  tale  of  some  tyrant,  who 
silently  showed  a  curious  questioner  how  to  govern  a 
land,  by  cutting  down,  with  his  staff,  the  heads  of  the 
tallest  poppies ;  and  the  Duchess  of  Bedford  turned 
to  me,  and  asked — '  What  says  a  Nevile  to  the  appli- 
cation ? '  '  Faith,  lady,'  said  I,  '  the  Nevile  poppies 
have  oak  stems.'  Believe  me,  Hastings,  these  Wood- 
villes  may  grieve,  and  wrong,  and  affront  Lord  War- 
wick, but  woe  to  all  the  pigmy  goaders  when  the  lion 
turns  at  bay." 

With  this  solemn  menace,  Montagu  quitted  Has- 
tings, and  passed  on,  leaning  upon  Marmaduke,  and 
with  a  gloomy  brow. 

At  the  gate  of  the  palace  waited  the  Lord  Montagu's 
palfrey  and  his  retinue  of  twenty  squires  and  thirty 
grooms.  "  Mount,  Master  Marmaduke,  and  take  thy 
choice  among  these  steeds,  for  we  shall  ride  alone. 
There  is  no  Nevile  amongst  these  gentlemen."  Mar- 
maduke obeyed.  The  earl  dismissed  his  retinue,  and 
in  little  more  than  ten  minutes, — so  different,  then,  was 
the  extent  of  the  metropolis, — the  noble  and  the  squire 
were  amidst  the  open  fields. 

They  had  gone  several  miles,  at  a  brisk  trot,  before 
the  earl  opened  his  lips,  and  then,  slackening  his  pace, 
he  said  abruptly,  "  How  dost  thou  like  the  king? 
Speak  out,  youth;  there  are  no  eavesdroppers  here." 

"  He  is  a  most  gracious  master,  and  a  most  winning 
gentleman." 

"  He  is  both,"  said  Montagu,  with  a  touch  of  emo- 
tion, that  surprised  Marmaduke,  "  and  no  man  can 
come  near  without  loving  him.  And  yet,  Marmaduke 
(is  that  thy  name?) — yet,  whether  it  be  weakness  or 
falseness,  no  man  can  be  sure  of  his  king's  favour  from 
day  to  day !  We  Neviles  must  hold  fast  to  each  other. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  275 

Not  a  stick  should  be  lost  if  the  fagot  is  to  remain 
unbroken.  What  say  you  ?  "  and  the  earl's  keen  eye 
turned  sharply  on  the  young  man. 

"  I  say,  my  lord,  that  the  Earl  of  Warwick  was  to 
me  patron,  lord,  and  father,  when  I  entered  yon  city 
a  friendless  orphan;  and  that,  though  I  covet  hon- 
ours, and  love  pleasure,  and  would  be  loth  to  lift  fin- 
ger or  speak  word  against  King  Edward,  yet  were 
that  princely  lord — the  head  of  mine  house — an  out- 
cast and  a  beggar,  by  his  side  I  would  wander,  for 
his  bread  I  would  beg." 

"  Young  man,"  exclaimed  Montagu,  "  from  this 
hour  I  admit  thee  to  my  heart!  Give  me  thy  hand. 
Beggar  and  outcast? — No! — If  the  storm  come,  the 
meaner  birds  take  to  shelter,  the  eagle  remains  soli- 
tary in  heaven !  "  So  saying,  he  relapsed  into  silence, 
and  put  spurs  to  his  steed. 

Towards  the  decline  of  day  they  drew  near  to 
the  favourite  palace  of  the  Archbishop  of  York. 
There,  the  features  of  the  country  presented  a  more 
cultivated  aspect  than  it  had  hitherto  worn.  For  at 
that  period  the  lands  of  the  churchmen  were  infinitely 
in  advance  of  those  of  the  laity  in  the  elementary  arts 
of  husbandry,  partly  because  the  ecclesiastic  proprie- 
tors had  greater  capital  at  their  command,  partly  be- 
cause their  superior  learning  had  taught  them  to  avail 
themselves,  in  some  measure,  of  the  instructions  of  the 
Latin  writers.  Still  the  prevailing  characteristic  of 
the  scenery  was  pasture  land — immense  tracts  of  com- 
mon supported  flocks  of  sheep ;  the  fragrance  of  new- 
mown  hay  breathed  sweet  from  many  a  sunny  field. 
In  the  rear,  stretched  woods  of  Druid  growth;  and 
in  the  narrow  lanes,  that  led  to  unfrequent  farms  and 
homesteads,  built  almost  entirely  either  of  wood  or 


276  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

(more  primitive  still)  of  mud  and  clay,  profuse  weeds, 
brambles,  and  wild  flowers,  almost  concealed  the  nar- 
row pathway,  never  intended  for  cart  or  waggon,  and 
arrested  the  slow  path  of  the  ragged  horse  bearing 
the  scanty  produce  of  acres  to  yard  or  mill.  But, 
though  to  the  eye  of  an  economist  or  philanthropist, 
broad  England  now,  with  its  variegated  agriculture, 
its  wide  roads,  its  white-walled  villas,  and  numerous 
towns,  may  present  a  more  smiling  countenance, — to 
the  early  lover  of  Nature,  fresh  from  the  child-like 
age  of  poetry  and  romance,  the  rich  and  lovely  verd- 
ure which  gave  to  our  mother-country  the  name  of 
"  Green  England ;  "  its  wild  woods  and  covert  alleys, 
proffering  adventure  to  fancy;  its  tranquil  heaths, 
studded  with  peaceful  flocks,  and  vocal,  from  time  to 
time,  with  the  rude  scrannel  of  the  shepherd — had  a 
charm  which  we  can  understand  alone  by  the  luxuri- 
ous reading  of  our  elder  writers.  For  the  country 
itself  ministered  to  that  mingled  fancy  and  contempla- 
tion which  the  stirring  and  ambitious  life  of  towns  and 
civilisation  has  in  much  banished  from  our  later 
literature. 

Even  the  thoughtful  Montagu  relaxed  his  brow  as 
he  gazed  around,  and  he  said  to  Marmaduke,  in  a  gentle 
and  subdued  voice — 

"  Methinks,  young  cousin,  that  in  such  scenes,  those 
silly  rhymes,  taught  us  in  our  childhood,  of  the  green 
woods  and  the  summer  cuckoos,  of  bold  Robin  and 
Maid  Marian,  ring  back  in  our  ears.  Alas,  that  this 
fair  land  should  be  so  often  dyed  in  the  blood  of  her 
own  children !  Here,  how  the  thought  shrinks  from 
broils  and  war — civil  war — war  between  brother  and 
brother,  son  and  father !  In  the  city  and  the  court,  we 
forget  others  overmuch,  from  the  too  keen  memory  of 
ourselves." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  277 

Scarcely  had  Montagu  said  these  words,  before  there 
suddenly  emerged  from  a  bosky  lane  to  the  right  a 
man  mounted  upon  a  powerful  roan  horse.  His  dress 
was  that  of  a  substantial  franklin ;  a  green  surtout  of 
broad  cloth,  over  a  tight  vest  of  the  same  colour,  left, 
to  the  admiration  of  a  soldierly  eye,  an  expanse  of 
chest  that  might  have  vied  with  the  mighty  strength 
of  Warwick  himself.  A  cap,  somewhat  like  a  turban, 
fell  in  two  ends  over  the  left  cheek,  till  they  touched 
the  shoulder,  and  the  upper  part  of  the  visage  was 
concealed  by  a  half-wizard,  not  unfrequently  worn  out 
of  doors  with  such  head-gear,  as  a  shade  from  the 
sun.  Behind  this  person  rode,  on  a  horse  equally 
powerful,  a  man  of  shorter  stature,  but  scarcely  less 
muscular  a  frame,  clad  in  a  leathern  jerkin,  curiously 
fastened  with  thongs,  and  wearing  a  steel  bonnet,  pr^ 
jecting  far  over  the  face. 

The  foremost  of  these  strangers,  coming  thus  un- 
awares upon  the  courtiers,  reined  in  his  steed,  and 
said,  in  a  clear,  full  voice — "  Good  evening  to  you,  my 
masters.  It  is  not  often  that  these  roads  witness  riders 
in  silk  and  pile." 

"  Friend,"  quoth  the  Montagu,  "  may  the  peace  we 
enjoy  under  the  White  Rose  increase  the  number  of 
all  travellers  through  our  land,  whether  in  pile  or 
russet !  " 

"  Peace,  sir !  "  returned  the  horseman,  roughly — 
"  peace  is  no  blessing  to  poor  men,  unless  it  brings 
something  more  than  life — the  means  to  live  in  security 
and  ease.  Peace  hath  done  nothing  for  the  poor  of 
England.  Why,  look  you  towards  yon  grey  tower, — 
the  owner  is,  forsooth,  gentleman  and  knight;  but 
yesterday,  he  and  his  men  broke  open  a  yeoman's 
house,  carried  off  his  wife  and  daughters  to  his  tower, 


278  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

and  refuseth  to  surrender  them  till  ransomed  by  half 
the  year's  produce  on  the  yeoman's  farm." 

"  A  caitiff  and  illegal  act,"  said  Montagu. 

"  Illegal !  But  the  law  will  notice  it  not — why 
should  it?  Unjust,  if  it  punish  the  knight,  and  dare 
not  touch  the  king's  brother !  " 

"How,  sir?" 

"  I  say  the  king's  brother.  Scarcely  a  month  since, 
twenty-four  persons  under  George  Duke  of  Clarence, 
entered  by  force  a  lady's  house,  and  seized  her  jewels 
and  her  money,  upon  some  charge,  God  wot,  of  con- 
triving mischief  to  the  boy-duke.*  Are  not  the  Com- 
mons ground  by  imposts  for  the  queen's  kindred  ?  Are 
not  the  king's  officers  and  purveyors  licensed  spoilers 
and  rapiners?  Are  not  the  old  chivalry  banished  for 
new  upstarts?  And  in  all  this,  is  peace  better  than 
war?" 

"  Knowest  thou  not  that  these  words  are  death, 
man?" 

"  Ay,  in  the  city !  but  in  the  fields  and  waste,  thought 
is  free.  Frown  not,  my  lord.  Ah !  I  know  you,  and 
the  time  may  come  when  the  baron  will  act  what  the 
franklin  speaks.  What !  think  you  I  see  not  the  signs 
of  the  storm  ?  Are  Warwick  and  Montagu  more  safe 
with  Edward  than  they  were  with  Henry?  Look  to 
thyself!  Charolois  will  outwit  King  Louis,  and  ere 
the  year  be  out,  the  young  Margaret  of  England  will 
be  lady  of  your  brave  brother's  sternest  foe !  " 

"  And  who  art  thou,  knave  ? "  cried  Montagu, 
aghast,  and  laying  his  gloved  hand  on  the  bold 
prophet's  bridle.  » 

*  See  for  this  and  other  instances  of  the  prevalent  contempt 
of  law  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.,  and,  indeed,  during  the 
fifteenth  century,  the  extracts  from  the  Parliamentary  Rolls, 
quoted  by  Sharon  Turner,  "  History  of  England,"  vol.  iii., 
P-  399- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  279 

"  One  who  has  sworn  the  fall  of  the  house  of  York, 
and  may  live  to  fight,  side  by  side,  in  that  cause  with 
Warwick;  for  Warwick,  whatever  be  his  faults,  has 
an  English  heart,  and  loves  the  Commons." 

Montagu,  uttering  an  exclamation  of  astonishment, 
relaxed  hold  of  the  franklin's  bridle;  and  the  latter 
waved  his  hand,  and  spurring  his  steed  across  the  wild 
chain  of  commons,  disappeared  with  his  follower. 

"  A  sturdy  traitor !  "  muttered  the  earl,  following 
him  with  his  eye.  "  One  of  the  exiled  Lancastrian 
lords,  perchance.  Strange  how  they  pierce  into  our 
secrets !  heardst  thou  that  fellow,  Marmaduke  ?  " 

"  Only  in  a  few  sentences,  and  those  brought  my 
hand  to  my  dagger.  But  as  thou  madest  no  sign,  I 
thought  his  grace  the  king  could  not  be  much  injured 
by  empty  words." 

"  True !  and  misfortune  has  ever  a  shrewish  tongue." 

"  An  it  please  you,  my  lord,"  quoth  Marmaduke, 
"  I  have  seen  the  man  before,  and  it  seemeth  to  me  thai 
he  holds  much  power  over  the  rascal  rabble."  And 
here  Marmaduke  narrated  the  attack  upon  Warner'* 
house,  and  how  it  was  frustrated  by  the  intercession 
of  Robin  of  Redesdale. 

"  Art  thou  sure  it  is  the  same  man,  for  his  face  was 
masked  ?  " 

"  My  lord,  in  the  north,  as  thou  knowest,  we  recog- 
nise men  by  their  forms,  not  faces,  as,  in  truth,  we 
ought,  seeing  that  it  is  the  sinews  and  bulk,  not  the 
lips  and  nose,  that  make  a  man  a  useful  friend  or 
dangerous  foe." 

Montagu  smiled  at  this  soldierly  simplicity. 

"  And  heard  you  the  name  the  raptrils  shouted  ?  " 

"  Robin,  my  lord.  They  cried  out  '  Robin/  as  if  it 
had  been  a  '  Montagu  '  or  a  '  Warwick.'  " 


28o  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Robin !  ah,  then  I  guess  the  man — a  most  perilous 
and  stanch  Lancastrian.  He  has  more  weight  with 
the  poor  than  had  Cade  the  rebel,  and  they  say  Mar- 
garet trusts  him  as  much  as  she  doth  an  Exeter  or 
Somerset.  I  marvel  that  he  should  show  himself  so 
near  the  gates  of  London.  It  must  be  looked  to.  But 
come,  cousin.  Our  steeds  are  breathed — let  us  on !  " 

On  arriving  at  the  More,  its  stately  architecture, 
embellished  by  the  prelate  with  a  facade  of  double 
arches,  painted  and  blazoned  somewhat  in  the  fashion 
of  certain  old  Italian  houses,  much  dazzled  Marma- 
duke.  And  the  splendour  of  the  archbishop's  retinue 
— less  martial,  indeed,  than  Warwick's — was  yet  more 
imposing  to  the  common  eye.  Every  office  that  pomp 
could  devise  for  a  king's  court  was  to  be  found  in  the 
household  of  this  magnificent  prelate: — master  of  the 
horse  and  the  hounds,  chamberlain,  treasurer,  pursui- 
vant, herald,  seneschal,  captain  of  the  body-guard,  &c. 
— and  all  emulously  sought  for  and  proudly  held  by 
gentlemen  of  the  first  blood  and  birth.  His  mansion 
was  at  once  a  court  for  middle  life,  a  school  for  youth, 
an  asylum  for  age;  and  thither,  as  to  a  Medici,  fled 
the  letters  and  the  arts. 

Through  corridor  and  hall,  lined  with  pages  and 
squires,  passed  Montagu  and  Marmaduke,  till  they 
gained  a  quaint  garden,  the  wonder  and  envy  of  the 
time,  planned  by  an  Italian  of  Mantua,  and  perhaps 
the  stateliest  one  of  the  kind  existent  in  England. 
Straight  walks,  terraces,  and  fountains,  clipped  trees, 
green  alleys  and  smooth  bowling-greens  abounded,  but 
the  flowers  were  few  and  common:  and  if  here  and 
there  a  statue  might  be  found,  it  possessed  none  of  the 
art  so  admirable  in  our  earliest  ecclesiastical  architect- 
ure, but  its  clumsy  proportions  were  made  more  un- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  281 

couth  by  a  proportion  of  barbaric  painting  and  gilding. 
The  fountains,  however,  were  especially  curious,  diver- 
sified, and  elaborate :  some  shot  up  as  pyramids,  others 
coiled  in  undulating  streams,  each  jet  chasing  the  other 
as  serpents ;  some,  again,  branched  off  in  the  form  of 
trees,  while  mimic  birds,  perched  upon  leaden  boughs, 
poured  water  from  their  bills.  Marmaduke,  much 
astounded  and  bewildered,  muttered  a  pater-noster  in 
great  haste ;  and  even  the  clerical  rank  of  the  prelate 
did  not  preserve  him  from  the  suspicion  of  magical 
practices  in  the  youth's  mind. 

Remote  from  all  his  train,  in  a  little  arbour  over- 
grown with  the  honeysuckle  and  white  rose,  a  small 
table  before  him  bearing  fruits,  confectionery,  and 
spiced  wines  (for  the  prelate  was  a  celebrated  epicure, 
though  still  in  the  glow  of  youth),  they  found  George 
Nevile,  reading  lazily  a  Latin  MS. 

"  Well,  my  dear  lord  and  brother,"  said  Montagu, 
laying  his  arm  on  the  prelate's  shoulder — "  first  let 
me  present  to  thy  favour  a  gallant  youth,  Marmaduke 
Nevile,  worthy  his  name,  and  thy  love." 

"  He  is  welcome,  Montagu,  to  our  poor  house,"  said 
the  archbishop,  rising,  and  complacently  glancing  at 
his  palace,  splendidly  gleaming  through  the  trellis- 
work.  "  '  Puer  ingenui  vultus'  Thou  art  acquainted, 
doubtless,  young  sir,  with  the  Humaner  Letters  ?  " 

"  Well-a-day,  my  lord,  my  nurturing  was  somewhat 
neglected  in  the  province,"  said  Marmaduke,  discon- 
certed, and  deeply  blushing,  "  and  only  of  late  have  I 
deemed  the  languages  fit  study  for  those  not  reared 
for  our  Mother  Church." 

"  Fie,  sir,  fie !  Correct  that  error,  I  pray  thee.  Latin 
teaches  the  courtier  how  to  thrive,  the  soldier  how  to 
manoeuvre,  the  husbandman  how  to  sow;  and  if  we 


282  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

churchmen  are  more  cunning,  as  the  profane  call  us 
(and  the  prelate  smiled),  than  ye  of  the  laity,  the 
Latin  must  answer  for  the  sins  of  our  learning." 

With  this,  the  archbishop  passed  his  arm  affection- 
ately through  his  brother's,  and  said,  "  Beshrew  me, 
Montagu,  thou  lookest  worn  and  weary.  Surely  thou 
lackest  food,  and  supper  shall  be  hastened.  Even  I, 
who  have  but  slender  appetite,  grow  hungered  in  these 
cool  gloaming  hours." 

"  Dismiss  my  comrade,  George — I  would  speak  to 
thee,"  whispered  Montagu. 

"  Thou  knowest  not  Latin  ?  "  said  the  archbishop, 
turning  with  a  compassionate  eye  to  Nevile,  whose 
own  eye  was  amorously  fixed  on  the  delicate  confec- 
tioneries— "  never  too  late  to  learn.  Hold,  here  is  a 
grammar  of  the  verbs,  that,  with  mine  own  hand,  I 
have  drawn  up  for  youth.  Study  thine  amo  and  thy 
moneo,  while  I  confer  on  church  matters  with  giddy 
Montagu.  I  shall  expect,  ere  we  sup,  that  thou  wilt 
have  mastered  the  first  tenses." 

"  But " 

"  Oh,  nay,  nay ;  but  me  no  buts.  Thou  art  too 
tough,  I  fear  me,  for  flagellation,  a  wondrous  improver 
of  tender  youth  " — and  the  prelate  forced  his  grammar 
into  the  reluctant  hands  of  Marmaduke,  and  sauntered 
down  one  of  the  solitary  alleys  with  his  brother. 

Long  and  earnest  was  their  conference,  and  at  one 
time  keen  were  their  disputes. 

The  archbishop  had  very  little  of  the  energy  of  Mon- 
tagu or  the  impetuosity  of  Warwick,  but  he  had  far 
more  of  what  we  now  call  mind,  as  distinct  from  tal- 
ent, than  either :  that  is,  he  had  not  their  capacities  for 
action,  but  he  had  a  judgment  and  sagacity  that  made 
him  considered  a  wise  and  sound  adviser:  this  he 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  283 

owed  principally  to  the  churchman's  love  of  ease,  and 
to  his  freedom  from  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  passions 
which  gnawed  the  great  minister  and  the  aspiring 
courtier;  his  natural  intellect  was  also  fostered  by 
much  learning.  George  Nevile  had  been  reared,  by 
an  Italian  ecclesiastic,  in  all  the  subtle  diplomacy  of 
the  church ;  and  his  ambition,  despising  lay  objects 
(though  he  consented  to  hold  the  office  of  chancellor), 
was  concentrated  in  that  kingdom  over  kings,  which 
had  animated  the  august  dominators  of  religious  Rome. 
Though,  as  we  have  said,  still  in  that  age  when  the 
affections  are  usually  vivid,*  George  Nevile  loved  no 
human  creature — not  even  his  brothers — not  even  King 
Edward,  who,  with  all  his  vices,  possessed  so  emi- 
nently the  secret  that  wins  men's  hearts.  His  early 
and  entire  absorption  in  the  great  religious  com- 
munity, which  stood  apart  from  the  laymen  in  order 
to  control  them,  alienated  him  from  his  kind ;  and  his 
superior  instruction  only  served  to  feed  him  with  a 
calm  and  icy  contempt  for  all  that  prejudice,  as  he 
termed  it,  held  dear  and  precious.  He  despised  the 
knight's  wayward  honour — the  burgher's  crafty  hon- 
esty. For  him  no  such  thing  as  principle  existed ;  and 
conscience  itself  lay  dead  in  the  folds  of  a  fancied  ex- 
emption from  all  responsibility  to  the  dull  herd,  that 
were  but  as  wool  and  meat  to  the  churchman-shepherd. 
But  withal,  if  somewhat  pedantic,  he  had  in  his  man- 
ner a  suavity  and  elegance  and  polish,  which  suited 
Veil  his  high  station,  and  gave  persuasion  to  his  coun- 
sels. In  all  externals,  he  was  as  little  like  a  priest  as 
the  high-born  prelates  of  that  day  usually  were.  In 
dress,  he  rivalled  the  fopperies  of  the  Plantagenet 

*  He  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Exeter  at  the  age  of  twenty, 
at  twenty-six  he  became  Archbishop  of  York,  and  was  under 
thirty  at  the  time  referred  to  in  the  text. 


284  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

brothers.  In  the  chase,  he  was  more  ardent  than  War- 
wick had  been  in  his  earlier  youth ;  and  a  dry  sarcastic 
humour,  sometimes  elevated  into  wit,  gave  liveliness 
to  his  sagacious  converse. 

Montagu  desired  that  the  archbishop  and  himself 
should  demand  solemn  audience  of  Edward,  and 
gravely  remonstrate  with  the  king  on  the  impropriety 
of  receiving  the  brother  of  a  rival  suitor,  while  War- 
wick was  negotiating  the  marriage  of  Margaret  with 
a  prince  of  France. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  archbishop,  with  a  bland  smile,  that 
fretted  Montagu  to  the  quick — "  surely,  even  a  baron, 
a  knight,  a  franklin — a  poor  priest  like  myself,  would 
rise  against  the  man  who  dictated  to  his  hospitality. 
Is  a  king  less  irritable  than  baron,  knight,  :ranklin, 
and  priest? — or  rather,  being,  as  it  were,  per  legem, 
lord  of  all,  hath  he  not  irritability  eno'  for  all  four? 
Ay — tut  and  tush  as  thou  wilt,  John — but  thy  sense 
must  do  justice  to  my  counsel  at  the  last.  I  know 
Edward  well;  he  hath  something  of  mine  own  idle- 
ness and  ease  of  temper,  but  with  more  of  the  dozing 
lion  than  priests,  who  have  only,  look  you,  the  mild- 
ness of  the  dove.  Prick  up  his  higher  spirit,  not  by 
sharp  remonstrance,  but  by  seeming  trust.  Observe  to 
him,  with  thy  gay,  careless  laugh — which,  methinks, 
thou  hast  somewhat  lost  of  late — that  with  any  other 
prince,  Warwick  might  suspect  some  snare — some  hu- 
miliating overthrow  of  his  embassage — but  that  all 
men  know  how  steadfast  in  faith  and  honour  is  Ed- 
ward IV." 

"  Truly,"  said  Montagu,  with  a  forced  smile,  "  you 
understand  mankind ;  but  yet,  bethink  you — suppose 
this  fail,  and  Warwick  return  to  England  to  hear  that 
he  hath  been  cajoled  and  fooled;  that  the  Margaret 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  285 

he  had  crossed  the  seas  to  affiance  to  the  brother  of 
Louis  is  betrothed  to  Charolois — bethink  you,  I  say, 
what  manner  of  heart  beats  under  our  brother's  mail." 

"  Impiger,  iracundus!  "  said  the  archbishop ;  "  a 
very  Achilles,  to  whom  our  English  Agamemnon,  if 
he  cross  him,  is  a  baby.  All  this  is  sad  truth;  our 
parents  spoilt  him  in  his  childhood,  and  glory  in  his 
youth,  and  wealth,  power,  success,  in  his  manhood. 
Ay!  if  Warwick  be  chafed,  it  will  be  as  the  stir  of 
the  sea-serpent,  which,  according  to  the  Icelanders, 
moves  a  world.  Still,  the  best  way  to  prevent  the  dan- 
ger is  to  enlist  the  honour  of  the  king  in  his  behalf — 
to  show  that  our  eyes  are  open,  but  that  we  disdain 
to  doubt,  and  are  frank  to  confide.  Meanwhile  send 
messages  and  warnings  privately  to  Warwick." 

These  reasonings  finally  prevailed  with  Montagu, 
and  the  brothers  returned  with  one  mind  to  the  house. 
Here,  as  after  their  ablutions,  they  sat  down  to  the 
evening  meal,  the  archbishop  remembered  poor  Mar- 
maduke,  and  despatched  to  him  one  of  his  thirty 
household  chaplains.  Marmaduke  was  found  fast 
asleep  over  the  second  tense  of  the  verb  amo. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  ARRIVAL  OF  THE  COUNT  DE  LA  ROCHE,  AND  THE 
VARIOUS  EXCITEMENT  PRODUCED  ON  MANY  PER- 
SONAGES BY  THAT  EVENT 

The  prudence  of  the  archbishop's  counsel  was  so 
far  made  manifest,  that  on  the  next  day  Montagu 
found  all  remonstrance  would  have  been  too  late.  The 
Count  de  la  Roche  had  already  landed,  and  was  on 
his  way  to  London.  The  citizens,  led  by  Rivers  par- 


286  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

tially  to  suspect  the  object  of  the  visit,  were  delighted 
not  only  by  the  prospect  of  a  brilliant  pageant,  but  by 
the  promise  such  a  visit  conveyed  of  a  continued  peace 
with  their  commercial  ally ;  and  the  preparations  made 
by  the  wealthy  merchants  increased  the  bitterness  and 
discontent  of  Montagu.  At  length,  at  the  head  of  a 
gallant  and  princely  retinue,  the  Count  de  la  Roche 
entered  London.  Though  Hastings  made  no  secret 
of  his  distaste  to  the  Count  de  la  Roche's  visit,  it  be- 
came his  office  as  lord  chamberlain  to  meet  the  count 
at  Blackwall,  and  escort  him  and  his  train,  in  gilded 
barges,  to  the  palace. 

In  the  great  hall  of  the  Tower,  in  which  the  story 
of  Antiochus  was  painted,  by  the  great  artists  em- 
ployed under  Henry  III.,  and  on  the  elevation  of  the 
dais,  behind  which,  across  Gothic  columns,  stretched 
draperies  of  cloth  of  gold,  was  placed  Edward's  chair 
of  state.  Around  him  were  grouped  the  Dukes  of 
Clarence  and  Gloucester,  the  Lords  Worcester,  Mon- 
tagu, Rivers,  D'Eyncourt,  St.  John,  Raoul  de  Fulke, 
and  others.  But  at  the  threshold  of  the  chamber  stood 
Anthony  Woodville,  the  knightly  challenger,  his  knee 
bound  by  the  ladye-badge  of  the  S.  S.,  and  his  fine 
person  clad  in  white-flowered  velvet  of  Genoa,  adorned 
with  pearls.  Stepping  forward,  as  the  count  appeared, 
the  gallant  Englishman  bent  his  knee  half-way  to  the 
ground,  and  raising  the  count's  hand  to  his  lips,  said 
in  French — "  Deign,  noble  sir,  to  accept  the  gratitude 
of  one  who  were  not  worthy  of  encounter  from  so 
peerless  a  hand,  save  by  the  favour  of  the  ladies  of 
England,  and  your  own  courtesy,  which  ennobles  him 
whom  it  stoops  to."  So  saying,  he  led  the  count 
towards  the  king. 

De  la  Roche,  an  experienced  and  profound  courtier, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  287 

and  justly  deserving  Hall's  praise  as  a  man  of  "  great 
witte,  courage,  valiantness,  and  liberalitie,"  did  not 
affect  to  conceal  the  admiration  which  the  remarkable 
presence  of  Edward  never  failed  to  excite ;  lifting  his 
hand  to  his  eyes,  as  if  to  shade  them  from  a  sudden 
blaze  of  light,  he  would  have  fallen  on  both  knees, 
but  Edward  with  quick  condescension  raised  him,  and, 
rising  himself,  said  gaily — 

"  Nay,  Count  de  la  Roche,  brave  and  puissant  cheva- 
lier, who  hath  crossed  the  seas  in  honour  of  knight- 
hood and  the  ladies  —  we  would,  indeed,  that  our 
roiaulme  boasted  a  lord  like  thee,  from  whom  we 
might  ask  such  homage.  But  since  thou  art  not  our 
subject,  it  consoles  us  at  least  that  thou  art  our  guest. 
By  our  halidame,  Lord  Scales,  thou  must  look  well  to 
thy  lance  and  thy  steeds'  girths,  for  never,  I  trow,  hast 
thou  met  a  champion  of  goodlier  strength  and  knight- 
lier  mettle." 

"  My  lord  king,"  answered  the  count,  "  I  fear  me, 
indeed,  that  a  knight  like  the  Sieur  Anthony,  who 
fights  under  the  eyes  of  such  a  king,  will  prove  invin- 
cible. Did  kings  enter  the  lists  with  kings,  where, 
through  broad  Christendom,  find  a  compeer  for  your 
highness  ?  " 

"  Your  brother,  Sir  Count,  if  fame  lies  not,"  re- 
turned Edward,  slightly  laughing,  and  lightly  touch- 
ing the  bastard's  shoulder,  "  were  a  fearful  lance  to 
encounter,  even  though  Charlemagne  himself  were  to 
revive,  with  his  twelve  paladins  at  his  back.  Tell  us, 
Sir  Count,"  added  the  king,  drawing  himself  up — 
"  tell  us,  for  we  soldiers  are  curious  in  such  matters, 
hath  not  the  Count  of  Charolois  the  advantage  of  all 
here  in  sinews  and  stature  ?  " 

"  Sire,"  returned  De  la  Roche,  "  my  princely  brother 


288  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

is  indeed  mighty  with  the  brand  and  battle-axe,  but 
your  grace  is  taller  by  half  the  head, — and,  perad- 
venture,  of  even  a  more  stalwart  build,  but  that  mere 
strength  in  your  highness  is  not  that  gift  of  God  which 
strikes  the  beholder  most." 

Edward  smiled  good-humouredly  at  a  compliment, 
the  truth  of  which  was  too  obvious  to  move  much  van- 
ity, and  said  with  a  royal  and  knightly  grace — "  Our 
house  of  York  hath  been  taught,  Sir  Count,  to  estimate 
men's  beauty  by  men's  deeds,  and  therefore  the  Count 
of  Charolois  hath  long  been  known  to  us — who,  alas, 
have  seen  him  not ! — as  the  fairest  gentleman  of  Eu- 
rope. My  Lord  Scales,  we  must  here  publicly  crave 
your  pardon.  Our  brother-in-law,  Sir  Count,  would 
fain  have  claimed  his  right  to  hold  you  his  guest,  and 
have  graced  himself  by  exclusive  service  to  your  per- 
son. We  have  taken  from  him  his  lawful  office,  for 
we  kings  are  jealous,  and  would  not  have  our  subjects 
more  honoured  than  ourselves."  Edward  turned  round 
to  his  courtiers  as  he  spoke,  and  saw  that  his  last  words 
had  called  a  haughty  and  angry  look  to  the  watchful 
countenance  of  Montagu.  "  Lord  Hastings,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  to  your  keeping,  as  our  representative,  we 
intrust  this  gentleman.  He  must  need  refreshment  ere 
we  present  him  to  our  queen." 

The  count  bowed  to  the  ground,  and  reverently  with- 
drew from  the  royal  presence,  accompanied  by  Has- 
tings. Edward  then,  singling  Anthony  Woodville  and 
Lord  Rivers  from  the  group,  broke  up  the  audience, 
and,  followed  by  those  two  noblemen,  quitted  the  hall. 

Montagu,  whose  countenance  had  recovered  the  dig- 
nified and  high-born  calm  habitual  to  it,  turned  to  the 
Duke  of  Clarence,  and  observed,  indifferently — "  The 
Count  de  la  Roche  hath  a  goodly  mien,  and  a  fair 
tongue." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  289 

"  Pest  on  these  Burgundians !  "  answered  Clarence, 
in  an  undertone,  and  drawing  Montagu  aside — "  I 
would  wager  my  best  greyhound  to  a  scullion's  cur, 
that  our  English  knights  will  lower  their  burgonots." 

"  Nay,  sir,  an  idle  holiday  show.  What  matters 
whose  lance  breaks,  or  whose  destrier  stumbles  ?  " 

"  Will  you  not,  yourself,  cousin  Montagu — you  who 
are  so  peerless  in  the  joust — take  part  in  the  fray?  " 

"  I,  your  highness — I,  the  brother  of  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  whom  this  pageant  hath  been  devised  by  the 
Woodvilles  to  mortify  and  disparage  in  his  solemn  em- 
bassy to  Burgundy's  mightiest  foe ! — I !  " 

"  Sooth  to  say,"  said  the  young  prince,  much  em- 
barrassed, "  it  grieves  me  sorely  to  hear  thee  speak 
as  if  Warwick  would  be  angered  at  this  pastime.  For, 
look  you,  Montagu — I,  thinking  only  of  my  hate  to 
Burgundy,  and  my  zeal  for  our  English  honour,  have 
consented,  as  high  constable,  and  despite  my  grudge 
to  the  Woodvilles,  to  bear  the  bassinet  of  our  own 
champion — and " 

"  Saints  in  heaven ! "  exclaimed  Montagu,  with  a 
burst  of  his  fierce  brother's  temper,  which  he  immedi- 
ately checked,  and  changed  into  a  tone  that  concealed, 
beneath  outward  respect,  the  keenest  irony,  "  I  crave 
your  pardon,  humbly,  for  my  vehemence,  Prince  of 
Clarence.  I  suddenly  remember  me,  that  humility  is 
the  proper  virtue  of  knighthood.  Your  grace  does  in- 
deed set  a  notable  example  of  that  virtue  to  the  peers 
of  England ;  and  my  poor  brother's  infirmity  of  pride 
will  stand  rebuked  for  aye,  when  he  hears  that  George 
Plantagenet  bore  the  bassinet  of  Anthony  Woodville." 

"  But  it  is  for  the  honour  of  the  ladies,"  said  Clar- 
ence, falteringly,  "  in  honour  of  the  fairest  maid  of  all 
VOL.  I. — 19 


290  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

— the  flower  of  English  beauty — the  Lady  Isabel — that 
j " 

"  Your  highness  will  pardon  me,"  interrupted  Mon- 
tagu, "  but  I  do  trust  to  your  esteem  for  our  poor 
and  insulted  house  of  Nevile,  so  far  as  to  be  assured 
that  the  name  of  my  niece,  Isabel,  will  not  be  submitted 
to  the  ribald  comments  of  a  base-born  Burgundian." 

"  Then  I  will  break  no  lance  in  the  lists !  " 

"  As  it  likes  you,  prince,"  replied  Montagu,  shortly ; 
and,  with  a  low  bow,  he  quitted  the  chamber,  and  was 
striding  to  the  outer  gate  of  the  Tower,  when  a  sweet, 
clear  voice  behind  him  called  him  by  his  name.  He 
turned  abruptly,  to  meet  the  dark  eye  and  all-subduing 
smile  of  the  boy-Duke  of  Gloucester. 

"  A  word  with  you,  Montagu — noblest  and  most 
prized,  with  your  princely  brothers,  of  the  champions 
of  our  house, — I  read  your  generous  indignation  with 
our  poor  Clarence.  Ay,  sir ! — ay ! — it  was  a  weakness 
in  him  that  moved  even  me.  But  you  have  not  now  to 
learn  that  his  nature,  how  excellent  soever,  is  some- 
what unsteady.  His  judgment  alone  lacks  weight  and 
substance, — ever  persuaded  against  his  better  reason  by 
those  who  approach  his  infirmer  side.  But  if  it  be  true 
that  our  cousin  Warwick  intends  for  him  the  hand  of 
the  peerless  Isabel,  wiser  heads  will  guide  his  course." 

"  My  brother,"  said  Montagu,  greatly  softened,  "  is 
much  beholden  to  your  highness  for  a  steady  counte- 
nance and  friendship,  for  which  I  also,  believe  me — 
and  the  families  of  Beauchamp,  Montagu,  and  Nevile 
— are  duly  grateful.  But  to  speak  plainly  (with  your 
grace's  youthful  candour,  so  all-acknowledged,  will 
permit),  the  kinsmen  of  the  queen  do  now  so  aspire  to 
rule  this  land,  to  marry  or  forbid  to  marry,  not  only 
our  own  children,  but  your  illustrious  father's,  that  I 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  291 

foresee,  in  this  visit  of  the  bastard  Anthony,  the  most 
signal  disgrace  to  Warwick  that  ever  king  passed  upon 
ambassador  or  gentleman.  And  this  moves  me  more ! 
— yea,  I  vow  to  St.  George,  my  patron,  it  moves  me 
more — by  the  thought  of  danger  to  your  royal  house, 
than  by  the  grief  of  slight  to  mine ;  for  Warwick — but 
you  know  him." 

"  Montagu,  you  must  soothe  and  calm  your  brother 
if  chafed.  I  impose  that  task  on  your  love  for  us. 
Alack,  would  that  Edward  listened  more  to  me  and  less 
to  the  queen's  kith : — These  Woodvilles ! — and  yet  they 
may  live  to  move  not  wrath  but  pity.  If  aught  snapped 
the  thread  of  Edward's  life  (Holy  Paul  forbid!),  what 
would  chance  to  Elizabeth — her  brothers — her  chil- 
dren?" 

"  Her  children  would  mount  the  throne  that  our  right 
hands  built,"  said  Montagu,  sullenly. 

"  Ah  !  think  you  so? — you  rejoice  me !  I  had  feared 
that  the  barons  might,  that  the  commons  would,  that 
the  church  must,  pronounce  the  unhappy  truth,  that — 
but  you  look  amazed,  my  lord !  Alas,  my  boyish  years 
are  too  garrulous !  " 

"  I  catch  not  your  highness's  meaning." 

"  Pooh,  pooh !  By  St.  Paul,  your  seeming  dulness 
proves  your  loyalty ;  but,  with  me,  the  king's  brother, 
frankness  were  safe.  Thou  knowest  well  that  the  king 
was  betrothed  before  to  the  Lady  Eleanor  Talbot ;  that 
such  betrothal,  not  set  aside  by  the  pope,  renders  his 
marriage  with  Elizabeth  against  law ;  that  his  children 
may  (would  to  Heaven  it  were  not  so!)  be  set  aside  as 
bastards,  when  Edward's  life  no  longer  shields  them 
from  the  sharp  eyes  of  men." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Montagu,  thoughtfully ;  "  and  in  that 
case,  George  of  Clarence  would  wear  the  crown,  and 
his  children  reign  in  England." 


292  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Our  Lord  forefend,"  said  Richard,  "  that  I  should 
say  that  Warwick  thought  of  this  when  he  deemed 
George  worthy  of  the  hand  of  Isabel.  Nay,  it  could 
not  be  so;  for,  however  clear  the  claim,  strong  and 
powerful  would  be  those  who  would  resist  it,  and  Clar- 
ence is  not,  as  you  will  see,  the  man  who  can  wrestle 
boldly — even  for  a  throne.  Moreover,  he  is  too  addicted 
to  wine  and  pleasure  to  bid  fair  to  outlive  the  king." 

Montagu  fixed  his  penetrating  eyes  on  Richard,  but 
dropped  them,  abashed,  before  that  steady,  deep,  unre- 
vealing  gaze,  which  seemed  to  pierce  into  other  hearts, 
and  show  nothing  of  the  heart  within. 

"  Happy  Clarence !  "  resumed  the  prince,  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  and  after  a  brief  pause — "  a  Nevile's  hus- 
band and  a  Warwick's  son! — what  can  the  saints  do 
more  for  men?  You  must  excuse  his  errors — all  our 
errors — to  your  brother.  You  may  not  know,  perad- 
venture,  sweet  Montagu,  how  deep  an  interest  I  have 
in  maintaining  all  amity  between  Lord  Warwick  and 
the  king.  For  methinks  there  is  one  face  fairer  than 
fair  Isabel's,  and  one  man  more  to  be  envied  than  even 
Clarence.  Fairest  face  to  me  in  the  wide  world  is  the 
Lady  Anne's — happiest  man  between  the  cradle  and 
the  grave,  is  he  whom  the  Lady  Anne  shall  call  her 
lord !  and  if  I — oh,  look  you,  Montagu,  let  there  be  no 
breach  between  Warwick  and  the  king!  Fare-you- 
well,  dear  lord  and  cousin — I  go  to  Baynard's  Castle 
till  these  feasts  are  over." 

"  Does  not  your  grace,"  said  Montagu,  recovering 
from  the  surprise  into  which  one  part  of  Gloucester's 
address  had  thrown  him — "  does  not  your  grace — so 
skilled  in  lance  and  horsemanship — preside  at  the 
lists?" 

"  Montagu,  I  love  your  brother  well  enough  to  dis- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  293 

please  my  king.  The  great  earl  shall  not  say,  at  least, 
that  Richard  Plantagenet,  in  his  absence,  forgot  the 
reverence  due  to  loyalty  and  merit.  Tell  him  that ;  and 
if  I  seem  (unlike  Clarence)  to  forbear  to  confront  the 
queen  and  her  kindred,  it  is  because  youth  should  make 
no  enemies — not  the  less  for  that,  should  princes  forget 
no  friends." 

Richard  said  this  with  a  tone  of  deep  feeling,  and, 
folding  his  arms  within  his  furred  surcoat,  walked 
slowly  on  to  a  small  postern  admitting  to  the  river ;  but 
there,  pausing  by  a  buttress  which  concealed  him  till 
Montagu  had  left  the  yard,  instead  of  descending  to 
his  barge,  he  turned  back  into  the  royal  garden.  Here 
several  of  the  court  of  both  sexes  were  assembled,  con- 
ferring on  the  event  of  the  day.  Richard  halted  at  a 
distance,  and  contemplated  their  gay  dresses  and 
animated  countenances  with  something  between  mel- 
ancholy and  scorn  upon  his  young  brow.  One  of  the 
most  remarkable  social  characteristics  of  the  middle 
ages  is  the  prematurity  at  which  the  great  arrived  at 
manhood,  shared  in  its  passions,  and  indulged  its  am- 
bitions. Among  the  numerous  instances  in  our  own 
and  other  countries  that  might  be  selected  from  his- 
tory, few  are  more  striking  than  that  of  this  Duke  of 
Gloucester — great  in  camp  and  in  council,  at  an  age 
when  now-a-days  a  youth  is  scarcely  trusted  to  the  dis- 
cipline of  a  college.  The  whole  of  his  portentous  career 
was  closed,  indeed,  before  the  public  life  of  modern 
ambition  usually  commences.  Little  could  those  ac- 
customed to  see,  on  our  stage,  "  the  elderly  ruffian  "  * 
our  actors  represent,  imagine  that  at  the  opening  of 
Shakespeare's  play  of  "  Richard  the  Third,"  the  hero 
was  but  in  his  nineteenth  year;  but  at  the  still  more 
*  Sharon  Turner. 


294  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

juvenile  age  in  which  he  appears  in  this  our  record, 
Richard  of  Gloucester  was  older  in  intellect,  and  al- 
most in  experience,  than  many  a  wise  man  at  the  date 
of  thirty-three — the  fatal  age  when  his  sun  set  for  ever 
on  the  field  of  Bosworth ! 

The  young  prince,  then,  eyed  the  gaudy,  fluttering, 
babbling  assemblage  before  him  with  mingled  melan- 
choly and  scorn.  Not  that  he  felt,  with  the  acuteness 
which  belongs  to  modern  sentiment,  his  bodily  defects 
amidst  that  circle  of  the  stately  and  the  fair,  for  they 
were  not  of  a  nature  to  weaken  his  arm  in  war  or  les- 
sen his  persuasive  influences  in  peace.  But  it  was 
rather  that  sadness  which  so  often  comes  over  an  active 
and  ambitious  intellect  in  early  youth,  when  it  pauses 
to  ask,  in  sorrow  and  disdain,  what  its  plots  and  coun- 
terplots, its  restlessness  and  strife,  are  really  worth. 
The  scene  before  him  was  of  pleasure — but  in  pleas- 
ure, neither  the  youth  nor  the  manhood  of  Richard 
III.  was  ever  pleased ;  though  not  absolutely  of  the 
rigid  austerity  of  Amadis,  or  our  Saxon  Edward,  he 
was  comparatively  free  from  the  licentiousness  of  his 
times.  His  passions  were  too  large  for  frivolous  ex- 
citements. Already  the  Italian,  or,  as  it  is  falsely 
called,  the  Machiavelian  policy,  was  pervading  the  in- 
tellect of  Europe,  and  the  effects  of  its  ruthless,  grand, 
and  deliberate  statecraft  are  visible  from  the  accession 
of  Edward  IV.  till  the  close  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  With 
this  policy,  which  reconciled  itself  to  crime  as  a  neces- 
sity of  wisdom,  was  often  blended  a  refinement  of  char- 
acter which  disdained  vulgar  vices.  Not  skilled  alone 
in  those  knightly  accomplishments  which  induced  Cax- 
ton,  with  propriety,  to  dedicate  to  Richard  "  The  Book 
of  the  Order  of  Chivalry,"  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's 
more  peaceful  amusements  were  borrowed  from  se- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  295 

verer  Graces  than  those  which  presided  over  the  tastes 
of  his  royal  brothers.  He  loved,  even  to  passion,  the 
Arts,  Music — especially  of  the  more  Doric  and  war- 
like kind — Painting,  and  Architecture ;  he  was  a  reader 
of  books,  as  of  men — the  books  that  become  princes — 
and  hence  that  superior  knowledge  of  the  principles  of 
law  and  of  commerce,  which  his  brief  reign  evinced. 
More  like  an  Italian  in  all  things  than  the  careless  Nor- 
man or  the  simple  Saxon,  Machiavel  might  have  made 
of  his  character  a  companion,  though  a  contrast,  to  that 
of  Castruccio  Castrucani. 

The  crowd  murmured  and  rustled  at  the  distance, 
and  still,  with  folded  arms,  Richard  gazed  aloof,  when 
a  lady,  entering  the  garden  from  the  palace,  passed  by 
him  so  hastily,  that  she  brushed  his  surcoat,  and,  turn- 
ing round  in  surprise,  made  a  low  reverence,  as  she  ex- 
claimed— "  Prince  Richard !  and  alone  amidst  so 


many 


"  Lady,"  said  the  duke,  "  it  was  a  sudden  hope  that 
brought  me  into  this  garden — and  that  was  the  hope  to 
see  your  fair  face  shining  above  the  rest." 

"  Your  highness  jests,"  returned  the  lady,  though  her 
superb  countenance  and  haughty  carriage  evinced  no 
opinion  of  herself  so  humble  as  her  words  would  imply. 

"  My  lady  of  Bonville,"  said  the  young  duke,  laying 
his  hand  on  her  arm,  "  mirth  is  not  in  my  thoughts  at 
this  hour." 

"  I  believe  your  highness ;  for  the  Lord  Richard 
Plantagenet  is  not  one  of  the  Woodvilles.  The  mirth 
is  theirs  to-day." 

"  Let  who  will  have  mirth — it  is  the  breath  of  a  mo- 
ment. Mirth  cannot  tarnish  glory — the  mirror  in  which 
the  gods  are  glassed." 

"  I  understand  you,  my  lord,"  said  the  proud  lady; 


296  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

and  her  face,  before  stern  and  high,  brightened  into  so 
lovely  a  change,  so  soft  and  winning  a  smile,  that 
Gloucester  no  longer  marvelled  that  that  smile  had 
rained  so  large  an  influence  on  the  fate  and  heart  of 
his  favourite  Hastings.  The  beauty  of  this  noble 
woman  was  indeed  remarkable  in  its  degree,  and  pecul- 
iar in  its  character.  She  bore  a  stronger  likeness  in 
feature  to  the  archbishop,  than  to  either  of  her  other 
brothers;  for  the  prelate  had  the  straight  and  smooth 
outline  of  the  Greeks — not,  like  Montagu  and  Warwick, 
the  lordlier  and  manlier  aquiline  of  the  Norman  race, — 
and  his  complexion  was  feminine  in  its  pale  clearness. 
But  though  in  this  resembling  the  subtlest  of  the 
brethren,  the  fair  sister  shared  with  Warwick  an  ex- 
pression, if  haughty,  singularly  frank  and  candid  in  its 
imperious  majesty ;  she  had  the  same  splendid  and 
steady  brilliancy  of  eye — the  same  quick  quiver  of  the 
lip,  speaking  of  nervous  susceptibility  and  haste  of 
mood.  The  hateful  fashion  of  that  day,  which  per- 
vaded all  ranks,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  was  the 
prodigal  use  of  paints  and  cosmetics,  and  all  imaginable 
artificial  adjuncts  of  a  spurious  beauty.  This  extended 
often  even  to  the  men,  and  the  sturdiest  warrior  deemed 
it  no  shame  to  recur  to  such  arts  of  the  toilet  as  the 
vainest  wanton  in  our  day  would  never  venture  to  ac- 
knowledge. But  the  Lady  Bonville,  proudly  confident 
of  her  beauty,  and  possessing  a  purity  of  mind  that  re- 
volted from  the  littleness  of  courting  admiration,  con- 
trasted forcibly  in  this  the  ladies  of  the  court.  Her 
cheek  was  of  a  marble  whiteness,  though  occasionally  a 
rising  flush  through  the  clear,  rich,  transparent  skin, 
showed  that  in  earlier  youth  the  virgin  bloom  had  not 
been  absent  from  the  surface.  There  was  in  her  feat- 
ures, when  they  reposed,  somewhat  of  the  trace  of  suf- 


297 

fering, — of  a  struggle,  past  it  may  be,  but  still  remem- 
bered. But  when  she  spoke,  those  features  lighted  up 
and  undulated  in  such  various  and  kindling  life  as  to 
dazzle,  to  bewitch,  or  to  awe  the  beholder,  according 
as  the  impulse  moulded  the  expression.  Her  dress 
suited  her  lofty  and  spotless  character.  Henry  VI. 
might  have  contemplated,  with  holy  pleasure,  its  ma- 
tronly decorum;  the  jewelled  gorget  ascended  to  the 
rounded  and  dimpled  chin ;  the  arms  were  bare  only  at 
the  wrists,  where  the  blue  veins  were  seen  through  a 
skin  of  snow ;  the  dark  glossy  locks,  which  her  tire- 
woman boasted,  when  released,  swept  the  ground,  were 
gathered  into  a  modest  and  simple  braid,  surmounted 
by  the  beseeming  coronet  that  proclaimed  her  rank. 
The  Lady  Bonville  might  have  stood  by  the  side  of  Cor- 
nelia, the  model  of  a  young  and  highborn  matron,  in 
whose  virtue  the  honour  of  man  might  securely  dwell. 

"  I  understand  you,  my  lord,"  she  said,  with  her 
bright,  thankful  smile ;  "  and  as  Lord  Warwick's  sister, 
I  am  grateful." 

"  Your  love  for  the  great  earl  proves  you  are  noble 
enough  to  forgive,"  said  Richard,  meaningly.  "  Nay, 
chide  me  not  with  that  lofty  look ;  you  know  that  there 
are  no  secrets  between  Hastings  and  Gloucester." 

"  My  lord  duke,  the  head  of  a  noble  house  hath  the 
right  to  dispose  of  the  hands  of  the  daughters ;  I  know 
nothing  in  Lord  Warwick  to  forgive." 

But  she  turned  her  head  as  she  spoke,  and  a  tear  for 
a  moment  trembled  in  that  haughty  eye. 

"  Lady,"  said  Richard,  moved  to  admiration,  "  to 
you  let  me  confide  my  secret.  I  would  be  your  nephew. 
Boy  though  I  be  in  years,  my  heart  beats  as  loudly  as 
a  man's :  and  that  heart  beats  for  Anne." 

"  The  love  of  Richard  Plantagenet  honours  even 
Warwick's  daughter !  " 


298  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Think  you  so.  Then  stand  my  friend ;  and,  being 
thus  my  friend,  intercede  with  Warwick,  if  he  angers 
at  the  silly  holiday  of  this  Woodville  pageant." 

"  Alas,  sir !  you  know  that  Warwick  listens  to  no  in- 
terceders  between  himself  and  his  passions.  But  what 
then?  Grant  him  wronged,  aggrieved,  trifled  with, — 
what  then  ?  Can  he  injure  the  house  of  York  ?  " 

Richard  looked  in  some  surprise  at  the  fair  speaker. 

"  Can  he  injure  the  house  of  York? — Marry,  yes," 
he  replied,  bluntly. 

"  But  for  what  end  ?  Whom  else  should  be  put  upon 
the  throne  ?  " 

"  What  if  he  forgive  the  Lancastrians  ?  What 
if— 

"  Utter  not  the  thought,  prince,  breathe  it  not,"  ex- 
claimed the  Lady  Bonville,  almost  fiercely.  "  I  love  and 

honour  my  brave  brother,  despite — despite "  She 

paused  a  moment,  blushed,  and  proceeded  rapidly, 
without  concluding  the  sentence.  "  I  love  him  as  a 
woman  of  his  house  must  love  the  hero  who  forms  its 
proudest  boast.  But  if,  for  any  personal  grudge,  any 
low  ambition,  any  rash  humour,  the  son  of  my  father, 
Salisbury,  could  forget  that  Margaret  of  Anjou  placed 
the  gorv  head  of  that  old  man  upon  the  gates  of  York, 
could  by  word  or  deed  abet  the  cause  of  usurping  and 
bloody  Lancaster, — I  would — I  would  ; — Out  upon  my 
sex !  I  could  do  nought  but  weep  the  glory  of  Nevile 
and  Monthermer  gone  for  ever." 

Before  Richard  could  reply,  the  sound  of  musical  in- 
struments, and  a  procession  of  heralds  and  pages  pro- 
ceeding from  the  palace,  announced  the  approach  of 
Edward.  He  caught  the  hand  of  the  dame  of  Bonville, 
lifted  it  to  his  lips,  and  saying,  "  May  fortune  one  day 
permit  me  to  face  as  the  earl's  son  the  earl's  foes," 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  299 

made  his  graceful  reverence,  glided  from  the  garden, 
gained  his  barge,  and  was  rowed  to  the  huge  pile  of 
Baynard's  Castle,  lately  reconstructed,  but  in  a  gloomy 
and  barbaric  taste,  and  in  which,  at  that  time,  he  prin- 
cipally resided  with  his  mother,  the  once  peerless  Rose 
of  Raby. 

The  Lady  of  Bonville  paused  a  moment,  and  in  that 
pause  her  countenance  recovered  its  composure.  She 
then  passed  on,  with  a  stately  step,  towards  a  group  of 
the  ladies  of  the  court,  and  her  eye  noted  with  proud 
pleasure  that  the  highest  names  of  the  English  knight- 
hood and  nobility,  comprising  the  numerous  connec- 
tions of  her  family,  formed  a  sullen  circle  apart  from 
the  rest,  betokening,  by  their  grave  countenances  and 
moody  whispers,  how  sensitively  they  felt  the  slight  to 
Lord  Warwick's  embassy  in  the  visit  of  the  Count  de 
la  Roche,  and  how  little  they  were  disposed  to  cringe 
to  the  rising  sun  of  the  Woodvilles.  There,  collected 
into  a  puissance  whose  discontent  had  sufficed  to  shake 
a  firmer  throne  (the  young  Raoul  de  Fulke,  the  idolater 
of  Warwick,  the  personation  iri  himself  of  the  old  Nor- 
man seignorie,  in  their  centre),  with  folded  arms  and 
lowering  brows,  stood  the  earl's  kinsmen,  the  Lords 
Fitzhugh  and  Fauconberg:  with  them,  Thomas  Lord 
Stanley,  a  prudent  noble,  who  rarely  sided  with  a  mal- 
content, and  the  Lord  St.  John,  and  the  heir  of  the 
ancient  Bergavennies,  and  many  another  chief,  under 
whose  banner  marched  an  army  !  Richard  of  Glouces- 
ter had  shown  his  wit  in  refusing  to  mingle  in  intrigues 
which  provoked  the  ire  of  that  martial  phalanx.  As 
the  Lady  of  Bonville  swept  by  these  gentlemen,  their 
murmur  of  respectful  homage,  their  profound  saluta- 
tion, and  unbonneted  heads,  contrasted  forcibly  with 
the  slight  and  grave,  if  not  scornful,  obeisance  they  had 


300  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

just  rendered  to  one  of  the  queen's  sisters,  who  had 
passed  a  moment  before  in  the  same  direction.  The 
lady  still  moved  on,  and  came  suddenly  across  the  path 
of  Hastings,  as,  in  his  robes  of  state,  he  issued  from  the 
palace.  Their  eyes  met,  and  both  changed  colour. 

"  So,  my  lord  chamberlain,"  said  the  dame,  sarcas- 
tically, "  the  Count  de  la  Roche  is,  I  hear,  consigned  to 
your  especial  charge." 

"  A  charge  the  chamberlain  cannot  refuse,  and  which 
William  Hastings  does  not  covet." 

"  A  king  had  never  asked  Montagu  and  Warwick  to 
consider  amongst  their  duties  any  charge  they  had 
deemed  dishonouring." 

"  Dishonouring,  Lady  Bonville !  "  exclaimed  Has- 
tings, with  a  bent  brow  and  a  flushed  cheek, — "  neither 
Montagu  nor  Warwick  had,  with  safety,  applied  to  me 
the  word  that  has  just  passed  your  lips." 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,"  answered  Katherine,  bitterly. 
"  Mine  articles  of  faith  in  men's  honour  are  obsolete  or 
heretical.  I  had  deemed  it  dishonouring  in  a  noble  na- 
ture to  countenance  insult  to  a  noble  enemy  in  his  ab- 
sence. I  had  deemed  it  dishonouring  in  a  brave  soldier, 
a  well-born  gentleman  (now  from  his  valiantness, 
merit,  and  wisdom,  become  a  puissant  and  dreaded 
lord),  to  sink  into  that  lackeydom  and  varletaille  which 
falsehood  and  cringing  have  stablished  in  these  walls, 
and  baptised  under  the  name  of  '  courtiers.'  Better  had 
Katherine  de  Bonville  esteemed  Lord  Hastings  had  he 
rather  fallen  under  a  king's  displeasure  than  debased 
his  better  self  to  a  Woodville's  dastard  schemings." 

"  Lady,  you  are  cruel  and  unjust,  like  all  your 
haughty  race.  And  idle  were  reply  to  one  who,  of  all 
persons,  should  have  judged  me  better.  For  the  rest, 
if  this  mummery  humbles  Lord  Warwick,  gramercy! 


3oi 

there  is  nothing  in  my  memory  that  should  make  my 
share  in  it  a  gall  to  my  conscience ;  nor  do  I  owe  the 
Neviles  so  large  a  gratitude,  that  rather  than  fret  the 
pile  of  their  pride,  I  should  throw  down  the  scaffolding 
on  which  my  fearless  step  hath  clombe  to  as  fair 
a  height,  and  one  perhaps  that  may  overlook  as  long 
a  posterity,  as  the  best  baron  that  ever  quartered  the 
Raven  Eagle  and  the  Dun  Bull.  But  (resumed  Has- 
tings, with  a  withering  sarcasm)  doubtless  the  Lady  de 
Bonville  more  admires  the  happy  lord  who  holds  him- 
self, by  right  of  pedigree,  superior  to  all  things  that 
make  the  statesman  wise,  the  scholar  learned,  and  the 
soldier  famous.  Way  there — back,  gentles," — and 
Hastings  turned  to  the  crowd  behind, — "  Way  there, 
for  my  lord  of  Harrington  and  Bonville !  " 

The  bystanders  smiled  at  each  other  as  they  obeyed ; 
and  a  heavy,  shambling,  graceless  man,  dressed  in  the 
most  exaggerated  fopperies  of  the  day,  but  with  a  face 
which  even  sickliness,  that  refines  most  faces,  could 
not  divest  of  the  most  vacant  dulness,  and  a  mien 
and  gait  to  which  no  attire  could  give  dignity,  passed 
through  the  group,  bowing  awkwardly  to  the  right  and 
left,  and  saying,  in  a  thick,  husky  voice — "  You  are  too 
good,  sirs — too  good :  I  must  not  presume  so  overmuch 
on  my  seignorie.  The  king  would  keep  me — he  would 
indeed,  sirs;  um — urn — why  Katherine — dame — thy 
stiff  gorget  makes  me  ashamed  of  thee.  Thou  wouldst 
not  think,  Lord  Hastings,  that  Katherine  had  a  white 
skin — a  parlous  white  skin.  La,  you  now — fie  on  these 
mufflers !  " 

The  courtiers  sneered ;  Hastings,  with  a  look  of  ma- 
lignant and  pitiless  triumph,  eyed  the  Lady  of  Bon- 
ville. For  a  moment  the  colour  went  and  came  across 
her  transparent  cheek,  but  the  confusion  passed,  and 


302  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

returning  the  insulting  gaze  of  her  ancient  lover  with 
an  eye  of  unspeakable  majesty,  she  placed  her  arm 
upon  her  lord's,  and  saying  calmly : — "  An  English  ma- 
tron cares  but  to  be  fair  in  her  husband's  eyes," — drew 
him  away ;  and  the  words  and  the  manner  of  the  lady 
were  so  dignified  and  simple,  that  the  courtiers  hushed 
their  laughter,  and  for  the  moment  the  lord  of  such  a 
woman  was  not  only  envied  but  respected. 

While  this  scene  had  passed,  the  procession,  preced- 
ing Edward,  had  filed  into  the  garden  in  long  and 
stately  order.  From  another  entrance,  Elizabeth,  the 
Princess  Margaret,  and  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  with 
their  trains,  had  already  issued,  and  were  now  ranged 
upon  a  flight  of  marble  steps,  backed  by  a  columned  al- 
cove, hung  with  velvets  striped  into  the  royal  baudekin, 
while  the  stairs  themselves  were  covered  with  leathern 
carpets,  powdered  with  the  white  rose  and  the  fleur  de 
lis ;  either  side  lined  by  the  bearers  of  the  many  ban- 
ners of  Edward,  displaying  the  white  lion  of  March, 
the  black  bull  of  Clare,  the  cross  of  Jerusalem,  the 
dragon  of  Arragon,  and  the  rising  sun,  which  he  had 
assumed  as  his  peculiar  war-badge  since  the  battle  of 
Mortimer's  Cross.  Again,  and  louder,  came  the  flourish 
of  music ;  and  a  murmur  through  the  crowd,  succeeded 
by  deep  silence,  announced  the  entrance  of  the  king.  He 
appeared,  leading  by  the  hand  the  Count  de  la  Roche, 
and  followed  by  the  Lords  Scales,  Rivers,  Dorset,  and 
the  Duke  of  Clarence.  All  eyes  were  bent  upon  the 
count,  and  though  seen  to  disadvantage  by  the  side  of 
the  comeliest  and  stateliest,  and  most  gorgeously-attired 
prince  in  Christendom,  his  high  forehead,  bright  sa- 
gacious eye,  and  powerful  frame,  did  not  disappoint  the 
expectations  founded  upon  the  fame  of  one  equally 
subtle  in  council  and  redoubted  in  war. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  303 

The  royal  host  and  the  princely  guest  made  their  way, 
where  Elizabeth,  blazing  in  jewels  and  cloth  of  gold, 
shone  royally,  begirt  by  the  ladies  of  her  brilliant  court. 
At  her  right  hand  stood  her  mother,  at  her  left,  the 
Princess  Margaret. 

"  I  present  to  you,  my  Elizabeth,"  said  Edward,  "  a 
princely  gentleman,  to  whom  we  nevertheless  wish  all 
ill-fortune, — for  we  cannot  desire  that  he  may  subdue 
our  knights,  and  we  would  fain  hope  that  he  may  be 
conquered  by  our  ladies." 

"  The  last  hope  is  already  fulfilled,"  said  the  count, 
gallantly,  as  on  his  knee  he  kissed  the  fair  hand  ex- 
tended to  him.  Then  rising,  and  gazing  'full  and  even 
boldly  upon  the  young  Princess  Margaret,  he  added  — 
"  I  have  seen  too  often  the  picture  of  the  Lady  Mar- 
garet not  to  be  aware  that  I  stand  in  that  illustrious 
presence." 

"  Her  picture !  Sir  Count,"  said  the  queen ;  "  we 
knew  not  that  it  had  been  ever  limned." 

"  Pardon  me,  it  was  done  by  stealth." 

"  And  where  have  you  seen  it  ?  " 

"  Worn  at  the  heart  of  my  brother  the  Count  of 
Charolois !  "  answered  De  la  Roche,  in  a  whispered 
tone. 

Margaret  blushed  with  evident  pride  and  delight; 
and  the  wily  envoy,  leaving  the  impression  his  words 
had  made  to  take  their  due  effect,  addressed  himself, 
with  all  the  gay  vivacity  he  possessed,  to  the  fair  queen 
and  her  haughty  mother. 

After  a  brief  time  spent  in  this  complimentary  con- 
verse, the  count  then  adjourned  to  inspect  the  menag- 
erie, of  which  the  king  was  very  proud.  Edward  offer- 
ing his  hand  to  his  queen,  led  the  way,  and  the  Duchess 
of  Bedford,  directing  the  count  to  Margaret  by  a 
shrewd  and  silent  glance  of  her  eye,  so  far  smothered 


304  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

her  dislike  to  Clarence  as  to  ask  his  highness  to  attend 
herself. 

"  Ah !  lady,"  whispered  the  count,  as  the  procession 
moved  along,  "  what  thrones  would  not  Charolois  re- 
sign for  the  hand  that  his  unworthy  envoy  is  allowed 
to  touch !  " 

"  Sir,"  said  Margaret,  demurely  looking  down,  "  the 
Count  of  Charolois  is  a  lord,  who,  if  report  be  true, 
makes  war  his  only  mistress." 

"  Because  the  only  living  mistress  his  great  heart 
could  serve  is  denied  to  his  love!  Ah,  poor  lord  and 
brother,  what  new  reasons  for  eternal  war  to  Bur- 
gundy, when  France,  not  only  his  foe,  becomes  his 
rival !  " 

Margaret  sighed,  and  the  count  continued,  till  by 
degrees  he  warmed  the  royal  maiden  from  her  reserve ; 
and  his  eye  grew  brighter,  and  a  triumphant  smile 
played  about  his  lips,  when,  after  the  visit  to  the  me- 
nagerie, the  procession  re-entered  the  palace,  and  the 
Lord  Hastings  conducted  the  count  to  the  bath  pre- 
pared for  him,  previous  to  the  crowning  banquet  of  the 
night.  And  far  more  luxurious  and  more  splendid  than 
might  be  deemed  by  those  who  read  but  the  general  his- 
tories of  that  sanguinary  time,  or  the  inventories  of 
furniture  in  the  houses  even  of  the  great  barons,  was 
the  accommodation  which  Edward  afforded  to  his 
guest.  His  apartments  and  chambers  were  hung  with 
white  silk  and  linen,  the  floors  covered  with  richly- 
woven  carpets;  the  counterpane  of  his  bed  was  cloth 
of  gold,  trimmed  with  ermine :  the  cupboard  shone  with 
vessels  of  silver  and  gold ;  and  over  two  baths  were 
pitched  tents  of  white  cloth  of  Rennes,  fringed  with 
silver.* 

*  See  Madden's  Narrative  of  the  Lord  Grauthuse :  "  Archaeo- 
logia,"  1830. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  305 

Agreeably  to  the  manners  of  the  time,  Lord  Hastings 
assisted  to  disrobe  the  count;  and,  the  more  to  bear 
him  company,  afterwards  undressed  himself  and  bathed 
in  the  one  bath,  while  the  count  refreshed  his  limbs  in 
the  other. 

"  Pri'thee,"  said  De  la  Roche,  drawing  aside  the  cur- 
tain of  his  tent,  and  putting  forth  his  head — "  pri'thee, 
my  Lord  Hastings,  deign  to  instruct  my  ignorance  of 
a  court  which  I  would  fain  know  well,  and  let  me  weet, 
whether  the  splendour  of  your  king,  far  exceeding 
what  I  was  taught  to  look  for,  is  derived  from  his  rev- 
enue, as  sovereign  of  England,  or  chief  of  the  House 
of  York?" 

"  Sir,"  returned  Hastings,  gravely,  putting  out  his 
own  head — "  it  is  Edward's  happy  fortune  to  be  the 
wealthiest  proprietor  in  England,  except  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  and  thus  he  is  enabled  to  indulge  in  a  state 
which  yet  oppresses  not  his  people." 

"  Except  the  Earl  of  Warwick,"  repeated  the  count, 
musingly,  as  the  fumes  of  the  odours,  with  which  the 
bath  was  filled,  rose  in  a  cloud  over  his  long  hair — "  ill 
would  fare  that  subject,  in  most  lands,  who  was  as 
wealthy  as  his  king!  You  have  heard  that  Warwick 
has  met  King  Louis  at  Rouen,  and  that  they  are  in- 
separable ?  " 

"  It  becomes  an  ambassador  to  win  grace  of  him  he 
is  sent  to  please." 

"  But  none  win  grace  of  Louis  whom  Louis  does  not 
dupe." 

"  You  know  not  Lord  Warwick,  Sir  Count.  His 
mind  is  so  strong  and  so  frank,  that  it  is  as  hard  to  de- 
ceive him,  as  it  is  for  him  to  be  deceived." 

"  Time  will  show,"  said  the  count,  pettishly,  and  he 
withdrew  his  head  into  the  tent. 
VOL.  I. — 20 


306  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

And  now  there  appeared  the  attendants,  with  hippo- 
eras,  syrups,  and  comfits,  by  way  of  giving  appetite  for 
the  supper,  so  that  no  farther  opportunity  for  private 
conversation  was  left  to  the  two  lords.  While  the  count 
was  dressing,  the  Lord  Scales  entered  with  a  superb 
gown,  clasped  with  jewels,  and  lined  with  minever, 
with  which  Edward  had  commissioned  him  to  present 
the  Bastard.  In  this  robe,  the  Lord  Scales  insisted  upon 
enduing  his  antagonist  with  his  own  hands,  and  the 
three  knights  then  repaired  to  the  banquet.  At  the 
king's  table  no  male  personage  out  of  the  royal  family 
sat,  except  Lord  Rivers — as  Elizabeth's  father — and 
the  Count  de  la  Roche,  placed  between  Margaret  and 
the  Duchess  of  Bedford. 

At  another  table,  the  great  peers  of  the  realm  feasted 
under  the  presidence  of  Anthony  Woodville,  while,  en- 
tirely filling  one  side  of  the  hall,  the  ladies  of  the  court 
held  their  "  mess  "  (so  called),  apart,  and  "  great  and 
mighty  was  the  eating  thereof !  " 

The  banquet  ended,  the  dance  began.  The  admirable 
"  featliness  "  of  the  Count  de  la  Roche,  in  the  pavon, 
with  the  Lady  Margaret,  was  rivalled  only  by  the  more 
majestic  grace  of  Edward  and  the  dainty  steps  of  An- 
thony Woodville.  But  the  lightest  and  happiest  heart 
which  beat  in  that  revel  was  one  in  which  no  scheme 
and  no  ambition  but  those  of  love  nursed  the  hope  and 
dreamed  the  triumph. 

Stung  by  the  coldness,  even  more  than  by  the  dis- 
dain of  the  Lady  Bonville,  and  enraged  to  find  that  no 
taunt  of  his  own,  however  galling,  could  ruffle  a  dig- 
nity which  was  an  insult  both  to  memory  and  to  self- 
love,  Hastings  had  exerted  more  than  usual,  both  at 
the  banquet  and  in  the  revel,  those  general  powers  of 
pleasing,  which,  even  in  an  age  when  personal  quali- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  307 

fications  ranked  so  high,  had  yet  made  him  no  less  re- 
nowned for  successes  in  gallantry  than  the  beautiful 
and  youthful  king.  All  about  this  man  witnessed  to 
the  triumph  of  mind  over  the  obstacles  that  beset  it ; — 
his  rise  without  envy,  his  safety  amidst  foes,  the  happy 
ease  with  which  he  moved  through  the  snares  and  pits 
of  everlasting  stratagem  and  universal  wile!  Him 
alone  the  arts  of  the  Woodvilles  could  not  supplant  in 
Edward's  confidence  and  love;  to  him  alone  dark 
Gloucester  bent  his  haughty  soul:  him  alone,  War- 
wick, who  had  rejected  his  alliance,  and  knew  the  pri- 
vate grudge  the  rejection  bequeathed; — him  alone, 
among  the  "  new  men,"  Warwick  always  treated  with 
generous  respect,  as  a  wise  patriot,  and  a  fearless  sol- 
dier; and  in  the  more  frivolous  scenes  of  courtly  life, 
the  same  mind  raised  one  no  longer  in  the  bloom  of 
youth,  with  no  striking  advantages  of  person,  and 
studiously  disdainful  of  all  the  fopperies  of  the  time, 
to  an  equality  with  the  youngest,  the  fairest,  the  gau- 
diest courtier,  in  that  rivalship,  which  has  pleasure  for 
its  object  and  love  for  its  reward.  Many  a  heart  beat 
quicker  as  the  graceful  courtier,  with  that  careless  wit 
which  veiled  his  profound  mournfulness  of  character, 
or  with  that  delicate  flattery  which  his  very  contempt 
for  human  nature  had  taught  him,  moved  from  dame 
to  donzell ; — till  at  length,  in  the  sight  and  hearing  of 
the  Lady  Bonville,  as  she  sat,  seemingly  heedless  of 
his  revenge,  amidst  a  group  of  matrons  elder  than  her- 
self, a  murmur  of  admiration  made  him  turn  quickly, 
and  his  eye  following  the  gaze  of  the  bystanders,  rested 
upon  the  sweet,  animated  face  of  Sibyll,  flushed  into 
rich  bloom  at  the  notice  it  excited.  Then  as  he  ap- 
proached the  maiden,  his  quick  glance  darting  to  the 
woman  he  had  first  loved,  told  him  that  he  had  at  last 


308  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

discovered  the  secret  how  to  wound.  An  involuntary 
compression  of  Katherine's  proud  lips,  a  hasty  rise  and 
fall  of  the  stately  neck,  a  restless  indescribable  flutter, 
as  it  were,  of  the  whole  frame,  told  the  experienced 
woman-reader  of  the  signs  of  jealousy  and  fear.  And 
he  passed  at  once  to  the  young  maiden's  side.  Alas ! 
what  wonder  that  Sibyll  that  night  surrendered  her 
heart  to  the  happiest  dreams ;  and  finding  herself  on 
the  floors  of  a  court — intoxicated  by  its  perfumed  air, — 
hearing  on  all  sides  the  murmured  eulogies  which  ap- 
proved and  justified  the  seeming  preference  of  the  pow- 
erful noble, — what  wonder  that  she  thought  the  humble 
maiden,  with  her  dower  of  radiant  youth  and  exquisite 
beauty,  and  the  fresh  and  countless  treasures  of  virgin 
love,  might  be  no  unworthy  mate  of  the  "  new  lord." 

It  was  morning  *  before  the  revel  ended ;  and  when, 
dismissed  by  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  Sibyll  was  left 
to  herself,  not  even  amidst  her  happy  visions  did  the 
daughter  forget  her  office.  She  stole  into  her  father's 
chamber.  'He,  too,  was  astir  and  up — at  work  at  the 
untiring  furnace,  the  damps  on  his  brow,  but  all  Hope's 
vigour  at  his  heart.  So  while  Pleasure  feasts,  and 
Youth  revels,  and  Love  deludes  itself,  and  Ambition 
chases  its  shadows — (chased  itself  by  Death) — so 
works  the  world-changing  and  world-despised  SCI- 
ENCE, the  life  within  life,  for  all  living, — and  to  all 
dead! 

*  The  hours  of  our  ancestors,  on  great  occasions,  were  not 
always  more  seasonable  than  our  own.  Froissart  speaks  of 
Court  Balls,  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  kept  up  till  day. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  309 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE      RENOWNED      COMBAT      BETWEEN      SIR      ANTHONY 
WOODVILLE   AND   THE   BASTARD   OF    BURGUNDY 

And  now  the  day  came  for  the  memorable  joust 
between  the  queen's  brother  and  the  Count  de  la 
Roche.  By  a  chapter  solemnly  convoked  at  St.  Paul's, 
the  preliminaries  were  settled; — upon  the  very  timber 
used  in  decking  the  lists,  King  Edward  expended  half 
the  yearly  revenue  derived  from  all  the  forests  of  his 
duchy  of  York.  In  the  wide  space  of  Smithfield,  des- 
tined at  a  later  day  to  blaze  with  the  fires  of  intolerant 
bigotry,  crowded  London's  holiday  population:  and 
yet,  though  all  the  form  and  parade  of  chivalry  were 
there — though,  in  the  open  balconies,  never  presided 
a  braver  king  or  a  comelier  queen — though  never  a 
more  accomplished  chevalier  than  Sir  Anthony  Lord 
of  Scales,  nor  a  more  redoubted  knight  than  the  brother 
of  Charles  the  Bold,  met  lance  to  lance, — it  was  ob- 
vious to  the  elder  and  more  observant  spectators,  that 
the  true  spirit  of  the  lists  was  already  fast  wearing 
out  from  the  influences  of  the  age;  that  the  gentleman 
was  succeeding  to  the  knight,  that  a  more  silken  and 
scheming  race  had  become  the  heirs  of  the  iron  men, 
who,  under  Edward  III.,  had  realized  the  fabled 
Paladins  of  Charlemagne  and  Arthur.  But  the  actors 
were  less  changed  than  the  spectators, — the  Well-born 
than  the  People.  Instead  of  that  hearty  sympathy  in 
the  contest,  that  awful  respect  for  the  champions,  that 
eager  anxiety  for  the  honour  of  the  national  lance, 
which,  a  century  or  more  ago,  would  have  moved  the 
throng  as  one  breast,  the  comments  of  the  bystanders 


3io  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

evinced  rather  the  cynicism  of  ridicule,  the  feeling  that 
the  contest  was  unreal,  and  that  chivalry  was  out  of 
place  in  the  practical  temper  of  the  times.  On  the 
great  chess-board,  the  pawns  were  now  so  marshalled, 
that  the  knights'  moves  were  no  longer  able  to  scour 
the  board  and  hold  in  check  both  castle  and  king. 

"  Gramercy,"  said  Master  Stokton,  who  sat  in  high 
state  as  sheriff,*  "  this  is  a  sad  waste  of  moneys :  and 
where,  after  all,  is  the  glory  in  two  tall  fellows,  walled 
a  yard  thick  in  armour,  poking  at  each  other  with 
poles  of  painted  wood?" 

"  Give  me  a  good  bull-bait!  "  said  a  sturdy  butcher, 
in  the  crowd  below — "  that's  more  English,  I  take  it, 
than  these  fooleries." 

Amongst  the  ring,  the  bold  'prentices  of  London, 
up  and  away  betimes,  had  pushed  their  path  into  a 
foremost  place,  much  to  the  discontent  of  the  gentry, 
and  with  their  flat  caps,  long  hair,  thick  bludgeons, 
loud  exclamations,  and  turbulent  demeanour,  greatly 
scandalized  the  formal  heralds.  That,  too,  was  a  sign 
of  the  times.  Nor  less  did  it  show  the  growth  of 
commerce,  that,  on  seats  very  little  below  the  regal 
balconies,  and  far  more  conspicuous  than  the  places 
of  earls  and  barons,  sat  in  state  the  mayor  (that  mayor 
a  grocer !  f  )  and  aldermen  of  the  city. 

A  murmur,  rising  gradually  into  a  general  shout, 
evinced  the  admiration  into  which  the  spectators  were 
surprised,  when  Anthony  Woodville  Lord  Scales — his 
head  bare — appeared  at  the  entrance  of  the  lists — so 
bold  and  so  fair  was  his  countenance,  so  radiant  his 
armour,  and  so  richly  caparisoned  his  grey  steed,  in 
the  gorgeous  housings  that  almost  swept  the  ground; 
and  around  him  grouped  such  an  attendance  of  knights 

*  Fabyan.  t  Sir  John  Yonge— Fabyan. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  3" 

and  peers  as  seldom  graced  the  train  of  any  subject, 
with  the  Duke  of  Clarence  at  his  right  hand,  bearing 
his  bassinet. 

But  Anthony's  pages,  supporting  his  banner,  shared 
at  least  the  popular  admiration  with  their  gallant  lord : 
they  were,  according  to  the  old  custom,  which  prob- 
ably fell  into  disuse  under  the  Tudors,  disguised  in 
imitation  of  the  heraldic  beasts  that  typified  his 
armorial  cognizance :  J  and  horrible  and  laidly  looked 
they  in  the  guise  of  griffins,  with  artful  scales  of  thin 
steel  painted  green,  red  forked  tongues,  and  griping 
the  banner  in  one  huge  claw,  while,  much  to  the 
marvel  of  the  bystanders,  they  contrived  to  walk  very 
statelily  on  the  other.  "Oh,  the  brave  monsters!" 
exclaimed  the  butcher,  "  Cogs  bones,  this  beats  all 
the  rest!" 

But  when  the  trumpets  of  the  heralds  had  ceased, 
1  when  the  words  "  Laissez  oiler  I "  were  pronounced, 
when  the  lances  were  set  and  the  charge  began,  this 
momentary  admiration  was  converted  into  a  cry  of 
derision,  by  the  sudden  restiveness  of  the  Burgundian's 
horse.  This  animal,  of  the  pure  race  of  Flanders,  of 
a  bulk  approaching  to  clumsiness,  of  a  rich  bay,  where, 
indeed,  amidst  the  barding  and  the  housings,  its  colour 
could  be  discerned,  had  borne  the  valiant  Bastard 
through  many  a  sanguine  field,  and  in  the  last  had 
received  a  wound  which  had  greatly  impaired  its  sight. 
And  now,  whether  scared  by  the  shouting,  or  terrified 
by  its  obscure  vision,  and  the  recollection  of  its  wound 
when  last  bestrode  by  its  lord,  it  halted  midway,  reared 
on  end,  and,  fairly  turning  round,  despite  spur  and 
bit,  carried  back  the  Bastard,  swearing  strange  oaths, 
that  grumbled  hoarsely  through  his  vizor,  to  the  very 
place  whence  he  had  started. 

J  Hence  the  origin  of  Supporters. 


312  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

The  uncourteous  mob  yelled  and  shouted  and 
laughed,  and  wholly  disregarding  the  lifted  wands, 
and  drowning  the  solemn  rebukes,  of  the  heralds,  they 
heaped  upon  the  furious  Burgundian  all  the  expres- 
sions of  ridicule  in  which  the  wit  of  Cockaigne  is  so 
immemorially  rich.  But  the  courteous  Anthony  of 
England,  seeing  the  strange  and  involuntary  flight 
of  his  redoubted  foe,  incontinently  reined  in,  lowered 
his  lance,  and  made  his  horse,  without  turning  round, 
back  to  the  end  of  the  lists  in  a  series  of  graceful 
gambadas  and  caracols.  Again  the  signal  was  given, 
and  this  time  the  gallant  bay  did  not  fail  his  rider; — 
ashamed,  doubtless,  of  its  late  misdemeanour, — arching 
its  head  till  it  almost  touched  the  breast,  laying  its 
ears  level  on  the  neck,  and  with  a  snort  of  anger  and 
disdain,  the  steed  of  Flanders  rushed  to  the  encounter. 
The  Bastard's  lance  shivered  fairly  against  the  small 
shield  of  the  Englishman,  but  the  Woodville's  weapon, 
more  deftly  aimed,  struck  full  on  the  count's  bassinet, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  pike  projecting  from  the  grey 
charger's  chaffron  pierced  the  nostrils  of  the  unhappy 
bay,  whom  rage  and  shame  had  blinded  more  than 
ever.  The  noble  animal,  stung  by  the  unexpected 
pain,  and  bitted  sharply  by  the  rider  whose  seat  was 
sorely  shaken  by  the  stroke  on  his  helmet,  reared 
again,  stood  an  instant  perfectly  erect,  and  then  fell 
backwards,  rolling  over  and  over  the  illustrious  burden 
it  had  borne.  Then  the  debonnaire  Sir  Anthony  of 
England,  casting  down  his  lance,  drew  his  sword,  and 
dexterously  caused  his  destrier  to  curvet  in  a  close 
circle  round  the  fallen  Bastard,  courteously  shaking 
at  him  the  brandished  weapon,  but  without  attempt  to 
strike. 

"  Ho,  marshal !  "  cried  King  Edward,  "  assist  to  his 
legs  the  brave  count." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  313 

The  marshal  hastened  to  obey.  "  Ventrebleu!" 
quoth  the  Bastard,  when  extricated  from  the  weight 
of  his  steed,  "  I  cannot  hold  by  the  clouds,  but  though 
my  horse  failed  me,  surely  I  will  not  fail  my  com- 
panions " — and  as  he  spoke,  he  placed  himself  in  so 
gallant  and  superb  a  posture,  that  he  silenced  the 
inhospitable  yell  which  had  rejoiced  in  the  foreigner's 
discomfiture.  Then,  observing  that  the  gentle  An- 
thony had  dismounted,  and  was  leaning  gracefully 
against  his  destrier,  the  Burgundian  called  forth — 

"  Sir  Knight,  thou  has  conquered  the  steed$  not 
the  rider.  We  are  now  foot  to  foot.  The  pole-axe, 
or  the  sword — which?  Speak!  " 

"  I  pray  thee,  noble  sieur,"  quoth  the  Woodville, 
mildly,  "  to  let  the  strife  close  for  this  day,  and  when 
rest  hath " 

"  Talk  of  rest  to  striplings — I  demand  my  rights !  " 

"  Heaven  forefend,"  said  Anthony  Woodville,  lifting 
his  hand  on  high,  "  that  I,  favoured  so  highly  by  the 
fair  dames  of  England,  should  demand  repose  on  their 
behalf.  But  bear  witness — "'  he  said  (with  the  gen- 
erosity of  the  last  true  chevalier  of  his  age,  and  lifting 
his  vizor,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  the  king,  and  even 
through  the  foremost  ranks  of  the  crowd) — "  bear 
witness,  that  in  this  encounter,  my  cause  hath  be- 
friended me,  not  mine  arm.  The  Count  de  la  Roche 
speaketh  truly ;  and  his  steed  alone  be  blamed  for  his 
mischance." 

"  It  is  but  a  blind  beast !  "  muttered  the  Burgundian. 

"  And,"  added  Anthony,  bowing  towards  the  tiers 
rich  with  the  beauty  of  the  court — "  and  the  count 
himself  assureth  me  that  the  blaze  of  yonder  eyes 
blinded  his  goodly  steed."  Having  delivered  himself 
of  this  gallant  conceit,  so  much  in  accordance  with  the 


314  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

taste  of  the  day,  the  Englishman,  approaching  the 
king's  balcony,  craved  permission  to  finish  the  en- 
counter with  the  axe  or  brand. 

"  The  former,  rather,  please  you,  my  liege ;  for  the 
warriors  of  Burgundy  have  ever  been  deemed  uncon- 
quered  in  that  martial  weapon." 

Edward,  whose  brave  blood  was  up  and  warm  at 
the  clash  of  steel,  bowed  his  gracious  assent,  and  two 
pole-axes  were  brought  into  the  ring. 

The  crowd  now  evinced  a  more  earnest  and  respect- 
ful attention  than  they  had  hitherto  shown,  for  the 
pole-axe,  in  such  stalwart  hands,  was  no  child's  toy. 
"  Hum,"  quoth  Master  Stokton,  "  there  may  be  some 
merriment  now — not  like  those  silly  poles!  Your  axe 
lops  off  a  limb  mighty  cleanly." 

The  knights  themselves  seemed  aware  of  the  greater 
gravity  of  the  present  encounter.  Each  looked  well 
to  the  bracing  of  his  vizor; — and  poising  their  weapons 
with  method  and  care,  they  stood  apart  some  moments, 
eyeing  each  other  steadfastly, — as  adroit  fencers  with 
the  small  sword  do  in  our  schools  at  this  day. 

At  length,  the  Burgundian,  darting  forward, 
launched  a  mighty  stroke  at  the  Lord  Scales,  which, 
though  rapidly  parried,  broke  down  the  guard,  and 
descended  with  such  weight  on  the  shoulder,  that  but 
for  the  thrice-proven  steel  of  Milan,  the  benevolent 
expectation  of  Master  Stokton  had  been  happily  ful- 
filled. Even  as  it  was,  the  Lord  Scales  uttered  a  slight 
cry — which  might  be  either  of  anger  or  of  pain — and 
lifting  his  axe  with  both  hands,  levelled  a  blow  on  the 
Burgundian's  helmet  that  well  nigh  brought  him  to 
his  knee.  And  now,  for  the  space  of  some  ten  minutes, 
the  crowd,  with  charmed  suspense,  beheld  the  almost 
breathless  rapidity  with  which  stroke  on  stroke  was 


given  and  parried;  the  axe  shifted  to  and  fro — wielded 
now  with  both  hands — now  the  left,  now  the  right — 
and  the  combat  reeling,  as  it  were,  to  and  fro — so 
that  one  moment  it  raged  at  one  extreme  of  the  lists 
— the  next  at  the  other;  and  so  well  inured,  from  their 
very  infancy,  to  the  weight  of  mail  were  these  re- 
doubted champions,  that  the  very  wrestlers  on  the 
village  green,  nay,  the  naked  gladiators  of  old,  might 
have  envied  their  lithe  agility  and  supple  quickness. 

At  last,  by  a  most  dexterous  stroke,  Anthony  Wood- 
ville  forced  the  point  of  his  axe  into  the  vizor  of  the 
Burgundian,  and  there  so  firmly  did  it  stick,  that  he 
was  enabled  to  pull  his  antagonist  to  and  fro  at  his 
will,  while  the  Bastard,  rendered  as  blind  as  his  horse 
by  the  stoppage  of  the  eye-hole,  dealt  his  own  blows 
about  at  random,  and  was  placed  completely  at  the 
mercy  of  the  Englishman.  And  gracious  as  the  gentle 
Sir  Anthony  was,  he  was  still  so  smarting  under  many 
a  bruise  felt  through  his  dinted  mail,  that  small  mercy, 
perchance,  would  the  Bastard  have  found,  for  the  gripe 
of  the  Woodville's  left  hand  was  on  his  foe's  throat, 
and  the  right  seemed  about  to  force  the  point  delib- 
erately forward  into  the  brain,  when  Edward,  roused 
from  his  delight  at  that  pleasing  spectacle  by  a  loud 
shriek  from  his  sister  Margaret,  echoed  by  the  Duchess 
of  Bedford,  who  was  by  no  means  anxious  that  her 
son's  axe  should  be  laid  at  the  root  of  all  her  schemes, 
rose,  and  crying,  "  Hold!  "  with  that  loud  voice  which 
had  so  often  thrilled  a  mightier  field,  cast  down  his 
warderer. 

Instantly  the  lists  opened — the  marshals  advanced 
— severed  the  champions — and  unbraced  the  count's 
helmet.  But  the  Bastard's  martial  spirit,  exceedingly 
dissatisfied  at  the  unfriendly  interruption,  rewarded 


316  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  attention  of  the  marshals  by  an  oath,  worthy  his 
relationship  to  Charles  the  Bold :  and  hurrying  straight 
to  the  king,  his  face  flushed  with  wrath  and  his  eyes 
sparkling  with  fire — 

"  Noble  sire  and  king,"  he  cried,  "  do  me  not  this 
wrong!  I  am  not  overthrown,  nor  scathed,  nor  sub- 
dued— I  yield  not.  By  every  knightly  law,  till  one 
champion  yields,  he  can  call  upon  the  other  to  lay  on 
and  do  his  worst." 

Edward  paused,  much  perplexed  and  surprised  at 
finding  his  intercession  so  displeasing.  He  glanced 
first  at  the  Lord  Rivers,  who  sat  a  little  below  him,  and 
whose  cheek  grew  pale  at  the  prospect  of  his  son's 
renewed  encounter  with  one  so  determined — then  at 
the  immovable  aspect  of  the  gentle  and  apathetic  Eliz- 
abeth— then  at  the  agitated  countenance  of  the  duchess 
— then  at  the  imploring  eyes  of  Margaret,  who,  with 
an  effort,  preserved  herself  from  swooning;  and,  finally, 
beckoning  to  him  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  as  high  con- 
stable, and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  as  earl  marshal,  he 
said,  "  Tarry  a  moment,  Sir  Count,  till  we  take  counsel 
in  this  grave  affair."  The  count  bowed  sullenly — the 
spectators  maintained  an  anxious  silence — the  curtain 
before  the  king's  gallery  was  closed  while  the  council 
conferred.  At  the  end  of  some  three  minutes,  how- 
ever, the  drapery  was  drawn  aside  by  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  and  Edward,  fixing  his  bright  blue  eye  upon 
the  fiery  Burgundian,  said,  gravely,  "  Count  de  la 
Roche,  your  demand  is  just.  According  to  the  laws 
of  the  list,  you  may  fairly  claim  that  the  encounter 
go  on." 

"  Oh !  knightly  prince,  well  said.  My  thanks.  We 
lose  time — squires,  my  bassinet!  " 

"  Yea,"  renewed  Edward,  "bring  hither  the  count's 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  317 

bassinet.  By  the  laws,  the  combat  may  go  on  at  thine 
asking — I  retract  my  warderer.  But,  Count  de  la 
Roche,  by  those  laws  you  appeal  to,  the  said  combat 
must  go  on  precisely  at  the  point  at  which  it  was  broken 
off.  Wherefore  brace  on  thy  bassinet,  Count  de  la 
Roche, — and  thou,  Anthony  Lord  Scales,  fix  the  pike 
of  thine  axe,  which  I  now  perceive  was  inserted  exactly 
where  the  right  eye  giveth  easy  access  to  the  brain, 
precisely  in  the  same  place.  So  renew  the  contest, 
and  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  thy  soul,  Count  de  la 
Roche!" 

At  this  startling  sentence,  wholly  unexpected,  and 
yet  wholly  according  to  those  laws  of  which  Edward 
was  so  learned  a  judge,  the  Bastard's  visage  fell.  With 
open  mouth  and  astounded  eyes,  he  stood  gazing  at 
the  king,  who,  majestically  reseating  himself,  motioned 
to  the  heralds. 

"  Is  that  the  law,  sire?  "  at  length  faltered  forth  the 
Bastard. 

"  Can  you  dispute  it?  Can  any  knight  or  gentleman 
gainsay  it?  " 

"  Then,"  quoth  the  Bastard,  gruffly,  and  throwing 
his  axe  to  the  ground,  "  by  all  the  saints  in  the  cal- 
endar! I  have  had  enough.  I  came  hither  to  dare  all 
that  beseems  a  chevalier,  but  to  stand  still  while  Sir 
Anthony  Woodville  deliberately  pokes  out  my  right 
eye,  were  a  feat  to  show  that  very  few  brains  would 
follow.  And  so,  my  Lord  Scales,  I  give  thee  my  right 
hand,  and  wish  thee  joy  of  thy  triumph,  and  the  golden 
collar."  * 

"  No  triumph,"  replied  the  Woodville,  modestly, 
"  for  thou  art  only,  as  brave  knights  should  be,  sub- 

*  The  prize  was  a  collar  of  gold,  enamelled  with  the  flower 
of  the  souvenance. 


3i8  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

dued  by  the  charms  of  the  ladies,  which  no  breast, 
however  valiant,  can  with  impunity  dispute." 

So  saying,  the  Lord  Scales  led  the  count  to  a  seat 
of  honor  near  the  Lord  Rivers.  And  the  actor  was 
contented,  perforce,  to  become  a  spectator  of  the  en- 
suing contests.  These  were  carried  on  till  late  at  noon 
between  the  Burgundians  and  the  English,  the  last 
maintaining  the  superiority  of  their  principal  champion; 
and  among  those  in  the  melee,  to  which  squires  were 
admitted,  not  the  least  distinguished  and  conspicuous 
was  our  youthful  friend,  Master  Marmaduke  Nevile. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

HOW   THE  BASTARD  OF   BURGUNDY  PROSPERED   MORE  IN 

HIS   POLICY   THAN    WITH    THE   POLE-AXE AND    HOW 

KING    EDWARD    HOLDS    HIS    SUMMER    CHASE    IN    THE 
FAIR  GROVES  OF  SHENE 

It  was  some  days  after  the  celebrated  encounter 
between  the  Bastard  and  Lord  Scales,  and  the  court 
had  removed  to  the  Palace  of  Shene.  The  Count  de  la 
Roche's  favour  with  the  Duchess  of  Bedford  and  the 
young  princess  had  not  rested  upon  his  reputation  for 
skill  with  the  pole-axe,  and  it  had  now  increased  to  a 
height  that  might  well  recompense  the  diplomatist  for 
his  discomfiture  in  the  lists. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  arts  of  Warwick's  enemies 
had  been  attended  with  signal  success.  The  final  prep- 
arations for  the  alliance,  now  virtually  concluded  with 
Louis's  brother,  still  detained  the  earl  at  Rouen,  and 
fresh  accounts  of  the  French  king's  intimacy  with  the 
ambassador  were  carefully  forwarded  to  Rivers,  and 
transmitted  to  Edward.  Now,  we  have  Edward's  own 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  319 

authority  for  stating  that  his  first  grudge  against  War- 
wick originated  in  this  displeasing  intimacy,  but  the 
English  king  was  too  clear-sighted  to  interpret  such 
courtesies  into  the  gloss  given  them  by  Rivers.  He 
did  not  for  a  moment  conceive  that  Lord  Warwick 
was  led  into  any  absolute  connection  with  Louis  which 
could  link  him  to  the  Lancastrians,  for  this  was  against 
common  sense;  but  Edward,  with  all  his  good-humour, 
was  implacable  and  vindictive,  and  he  could  not  en- 
dure the  thought  that  Warwick  should  gain  the  friend- 
ship of  the  man  he  deemed  his  foe.  Putting  aside  his 
causes  of  hatred  to  Louis,  in  the  encouragement  which 
that  king  had  formerly  given  to  the  Lancastrian  exiles, 
Edward's  pride  as  sovereign  felt  acutely  the  slighting 
disdain  with  which  the  French  king  had  hitherto 
treated  his  royalty  and  his  birth.  The  customary  nick- 
name with  which  he  was  maligned  in  Paris  was  "  the 
Son  of  the  Archer,"  a  taunt  upon  the  fair  fame  of  his 
mother,  whom  scandal  accused  of  no  rigid  fidelity  to 
the  Duke  of  York.  Besides  this,  Edward  felt  some- 
what of  the  jealousy  natural  to  a  king,  himself  so 
spirited  and  able,  of  the  reputation  for  profound  policy 
and  statecraft,  which  Louis  XI.  was  rapidly  widening 
and  increasing  throughout  the  courts  of  Europe.  And, 
what  with  the  resentment,  and  what  with  the  jealousy, 
there  had  sprung  up  in  his  warlike  heart  a  secret  desire 
to  advance  the  claims  of  England  to  the  throne  of 
France,  and  retrieve  the  conquests  won  by  the  Fifth 
Henry,  to  be  lost  under  the  Sixth.  Possessing  these 
feelings  and  these  views,  Edward  necessarily  saw  in  the 
alliance  with  Burgundy,  all  that  could  gratify  both  his 
hate  and  his  ambition.  The  Count  of  Charolois  had 
sworn  to  Louis  the  most  deadly  enmity,  and  would  have 
every  motive,  whether  of  vengeance  or  of  interest,  to 


320  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

associate  himself  heart  in  hand  with  the  arms  of  Eng- 
land in  any  invasion  of  France;  and  to  these  warlike 
objects  Edward  added,  as  we  have  so  often  had  cause 
to  remark,  the  more  peaceful  aims  and  interests  of 
commerce.  And,  therefore,  although  he  could  not  so 
far  emancipate  himself  from  that  influence,  which  both 
awe  and  gratitude  invested  in  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  as 
to  resist  his  great  minister's  embassy  to  Louis;  and 
though,  despite  all  these  reasons  in  favour  of  connec- 
tion with  Burgundy,  he  could  not  but  reluctantly  allow 
that  Warwick  urged  those  of  a  still  larger  and  wiser 
policy,  when  showing  that  the  infant  dynasty  of  York 
could  only  be  made  secure  by  effectually  depriving 
Margaret  of  the  sole  ally  that  could  venture  to  assist 
her  cause,  yet  no  sooner  had  Warwick  fairly  departed, 
than  he  inly  chafed  at  the  concession  he  had  made, 
and  his  mind  was  open  to  all  the  impressions  which  the 
Earl's  enemies  sought  to  stamp  upon  it.  As  the  wis- 
dom of  every  man,  however  able,  can  but  run  through 
those  channels  which  are  formed  by  the  soil  of  the 
character,  so  Edward,  with  all  his  talents,  never  pos- 
sessed the  prudence  which  fear  of  consequences  in- 
spires. He  was  so  eminently  fearless — so  scornful  of 
danger — that  he  absolutely  forgot  the  arguments  on 
which  the  affectionate  zeal  of  Warwick  had  based  the 
alliance  with  Louis — arguments  as  to  the  unceasing 
peril,  whether  to  his  person  or  his  throne,  so  long  as 
the  unprincipled  and  plotting  genius  of  the  French 
king  had  an  interest  against  both — and  thus  he  became 
only  alive  to  the  representations  of  his  passions,  his 
pride,  and  his  mercantile  interests.  The  Duchess  of 
Bedford,  the  queen,  and  all  the  family  of  Woodville, 
who  had  but  one  object  at  heart — the  downfall  of 
Warwick  and  his  house — knew  enough  of  the  earl's 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  321 

haughty  nature  to  be  aware  that  he  would  throw  up 
the  reins  of  government  the  moment  he  knew  that 
Edward  has  discredited  and  dishonoured  his  embassy; 
and,  despite  the  suspicions  they  sought  to  instil  into 
their  king's  mind,  they  calculated  upon  the  earl's  love 
and  near  relationship  to  Edward — upon  his  utter,  and 
seemingly  irreconcilable  breach  with  the  house  of 
Lancaster — to  render  his  wrath  impotent — and  to  leave 
him  only  the  fallen  minister,  not  the  mighty  rebel. 

Edward  had  been  thus  easily  induced  to  permit  the 
visit  of  the  Count  de  la  Roche,  although  he  had  by 
no  means  then  resolved  upon  the  course  he  should 
pursue.  At  all  events,  even  if  the  alliance  with  Louis 
was  to  take  place,  the  friendship  of  Burgundy  was 
worth  much  to  maintain.  But  De  la  Roche,  soon 
made  aware,  by  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  of  the  ground 
on  which  he  stood,  and  instructed  by  his  brother  to 
spare^no  pains  and  to  scruple  no  promise  that  might 
serve  to  alienate  Edward  from  Louis,  and  win  the 
hand  and  dower  of  Margaret,  found  it  a  more  facile 
matter  than  his  most  sanguine  hopes  had  deemed,  to 
work  upon  the  passions  and  the  motives  which  inclined 
the  king  to  the  pretensions  of  the  heir  of  Burgundy. 
And  what  more  than  all  else  favoured  the  envoy's 
mission  was  the  very  circumstance  that  should  most 
have  defeated  it — viz.,  the  recollection  of  the  Earl  of 
Warwick.  For  in  the  absence  of  that  powerful  baron, 
and  master-minister,  the  king  had  seemed  to  breathe 
more  freely.  In  his  absence,  he  forgot  his  power. 
The  machine  of  government,  to  his  own  surprise, 
seemed  to  go  on  as  well,  the  Commons  were  as  sub- 
missive, the  mobs  as  noisy  in  their  shouts,  as  if  the 
earl  was  by.  There  was  no  longer  any  one  to  share 
with  Edward  the  joys  of  popularity,  the  sweets  of 
VOL.  I. — 21 


322  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

power.  Though  Edward  was  not  Diogenes,  he  loved 
the  popular  sunshine,  and  no  Alexander  now  stood 
between  him  and  its  beams.  Deceived  by  the  repre- 
sentations of  his  courtiers,  hearing  nothing  but  abuse 
of  Warwick,  and  sneers  at  his  greatness,  he  began  .to 
think  the  hour  had  come  when  he  might  reign  alone, 
and  he  entered,  though  tacitly,  and  not  acknowledging 
it  even  to  himself,  into  the  very  object  of  the  woman- 
kind about  him — viz.  the  dismissal  of  his  minister. 

The  natural  carelessness  and  luxurious  indolence  of 
Edward's  temper  did  not,  however,  permit  him  to  see 
all  the  ingratitude  of  the  course  he  was  about  to  adopt. 
The  egotism  a  king  too  often  acquires,  and  no  king 
so  easily  as  one  like  Edward  IV.,  not  born  to  a  throne, 
made  him  consider  that  he  alone  was  entitled  to  the 
prerogatives  of  pride.  As  sovereign  and  as  brother, 
might  he  not  give  the  hand  of  Margaret  as  he  listed? 
If  Warwick  was  offended,  pest  on  his  disloyalty  and 
presumption!  And  so  saying  to  himself,  he  dismissed 
the  very  thought  of  the  absent  earl,  and  glided  un- 
consciously down  the  current  of  the  hour.  And  yet, 
notwithstanding  all  these  prepossessions  and  disposi- 
tions, Edward  might  no  doubt  have  deferred,  at  least, 
the  meditated  breach  with  his  great  minister  until  the 
return  of  the  latter,  and  then  have  acted  with  the 
delicacy  and  precaution  that  became  a  king  bound 
by  ties  of  gratitude  and  blood  to  the.  statesman  he 
desired  to  discard,  but  for  a  habit, — which,  while  his- 
tory mentions,  it  seems  to  forget,  in  the  consequences 
it  ever  engenders — the  habit  of  intemperance.  Un- 
questionably, to  that  habit  many  of  the  imprudences 
and  levities  of  a  king  possessed  of  so  much  ability, 
are  to  be  ascribed;  and  over  his  cups  with  the  wary 
and  watchful  De  la  Roche,  Edward  had  contrived  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  323 

entangle  himself  far  more  than  in  his  cooler  moments 
he  would  have  been  disposed  to  do. 

Having  thus  admitted  our  readers  into  those  re- 
cesses of  that  cor  inscrutabile — the  heart  of  kings — we 
summon  them  to  a  scene  peculiar  to  the  pastimes  of 
the  magnificent  Edward.  Amidst  the  shades  of  the 
vast  park  or  chase  which  then  appertained  to  the 
Palace  of  Shene,  the  noonday  sun  shone  upon  such 
a  spot  as  Armida  might  have  dressed  for  the  subdued 
Rinaldo.  A  space  had  been  cleared  of  trees  and 
underwood,  and  made  level  as  a  bowling-green. 
Around  this  space  the  huge  oak  and  the  broad  beech 
were  hung  with  trellis-work,  wreathed  with  jasmine, 
honeysuckle,  and  the  white  rose,  trained  in  arches. 
Ever  and  anon  through  these  arches  extended  long 
alleys,  or  vistas,  gradually  lost  in  the  cool  depth  of 
foliage;  amidst  these  alleys  and  around  this  space, 
numberless  arbours,  quaint  with  all  the  flowers  then 
known  in  England,  were  constructed.  In  the  centre 
of  the  sward  was  a  small  artificial  lake,  long  since 
dried  up,  and  adorned  then  with  a  profusion  of  foun- 
tains, that  seemed  to  scatter  coolness  around  the 
glowing  air.  Pitched  in  various  and  appropriate  sites, 
were  tents  of  silk  and  the  white  cloth  of  Rennes,  each 
tent  so  placed  as  to  command  one  of  the  alleys;  and 
at  the  opening  of  each  stood  cavalier  or  dame,  with 
the  bow  or  cross-bow,  as  it  pleased  the  fancy  or  suited 
best  the  skill,  looking  for  the  quarry,  which  horn 
and  hound  drove  fast  and  frequent  across  the  alleys. 
Such  was  the  luxurious  "  summer-chase  "  of  the  Sar- 
danapalus  of  the  North.  Nor  could  any  spectacle 
more  thoroughly  represent  that  poetical  yet  effeminate 
taste,  which,  borrowed  from  the  Italians,  made  a  short 
interval  between  the  chivalric  and  the  modern  age! 


324  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

The  exceeding  beauty  of  the  day — the  richness  of  the 
foliage  in  the  first  suns  of  bright  July — the  bay  of 
the  dogs — the  sound  of  the  mellow  horn — the  fragrance 
of  the  air,  heavy  with  noontide  flowers — the  gay  tents 
— the  rich  dresses  and  fair  faces  and  merry  laughter 
of  dame  and  donzell — combined  to  take  captive  every 
sense,  and  to  reconcile  ambition  itself,  that  eternal 
traveller  through  the  future,  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
voluptuous  hour.  But  there  were  illustrious  excep- 
tions to  the  contentment  of  the  general  company. 

A  courier  had  arrived  that  morning  to  apprise  Ed- 
ward of  the  unexpected  debarkation  of  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  with  the  Archbishop  of  Narbonne  and  the 
Bastard  of  Bourbon, — the  ambassadors  commissioned 
by  Louis  to  settle  the  preliminaries  of  .the  marriage 
between  Margaret  and  his  brother. 

This  unwelcome  intelligence  reached  Edward  at  the 
very  moment  he  was  sallying  from  his  palace  gates 
to  his  pleasant  pastime.  He  took  aside  Lord  Hastings, 
and  communicated  the  news  to  his  able  favourite. — 
"  Put  spurs  to  thy  horse,  Hastings,  and  hie  thee  fast  to 
Baynard's  Castle.  Bring  back  Gloucester.  In  these 
difficult  matters,  that  boy's  head  is  better  than  a 
council." 

"  Your  highness,"  said  Hastings,  tightening  his 
girdle  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  short- 
ened his  stirrups,  "  shall  be  obeyed.  I  foresaw,  sire, 
that  this  coming  would  occasion  much  that  my  Lords 
Rivers  and  Worcester  have  overlooked.  I  rejoice  that 
you  summon  the  Prince  Richard,  who  hath  wisely 
forborne  all  countenance  to  the  Burgundian  envoy. 
But  is  this  all,  sire?  Is  it  not  well  to  assemble  also 
your  trustiest  lords  and  most  learned  prelates,  if  not 
to  overawe  Lord  Warwick's  anger,  at  least  to  confer 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  325 

on  the  fitting  excuses  to  be  made  to  King  Louis's  am- 
bassadors? " 

"  And  so  lose  the  fairest  day  this  summer  hath  be- 
stowed upon  us  ?  Tush  ! — the  more  need  for  pleasaunce 
to-day,  since  business  must  come  to-morrow.  Away 
with  you,  dear  Will!" 

Hastings  looked  grave,  but  he  saw  all  further  re- 
monstrance would  be  in  vain,  and  hoping  much  from 
the  intercession  of  Gloucester,  put  spurs  to  his  steed, 
and  vanished.  Edward  mused  a  moment;  and  Eliza- 
beth, who  knew  every  expression  and  change  of  his 
countenance,  rode  from  the  circle  of  her  ladies,  and 
approached  him  timidly.  Casting  down  her  eyes, 
which  she  always  affected  in  speaking  to  her  lord, 
the  queen  said,  softly, 

"  Something  hath  disturbed  my  liege  and  my  life's 
life." 

"  Marry,  yes,  sweet  Bessee.  Last  night,  to  pleasure 
thee  and  thy  kin  (and  sooth  to  say,  small  gratitude  ye 
owe  me,  for  it  also  pleased  myself),  I  promised  Mar- 
garet's hand,  through  De  la  Roche,  to  the  heir  of 
Burgundy." 

"  O  princely  heart!  "  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  her  whole 
face  lighted  up  with  triumph — "  ever  seeking  to  make 
happy  those  it  cherishes.  But  is  it  that  which  disturbs 
thee — that  which  thou  repentest?" 

"  No,  sweetheart — no.  Yet  had  it  not  been  for  the 
strength  of  the  clary,  I  should  have  kept  the  Bastard 
longer  in  suspense.  But  what  is  done  is  done.  Let 
not  thy  roses  wither  when  thou  hearest  Warwick  is 
in  England — nay,  nay,  child,  look  not  so  appalled — 
thine  Edward  is  no  infant,  whom  ogre  and  goblin 
scare;  and" — glancing  his  eye  proudly  round  as  he 
spoke,  and  saw  the  goodly  cavalcade  of  his  peers  and 


326  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

knights,  with  his  body-guard — tall  and  chosen  veterans 
— filling  up  the  palace-yard,  with  the  show  of  casque 
and  pike — "  and  if  the  struggle  is  to  come  between 
Edward  of  England  and  his  subject,  never  an  hour 
more  ripe  than  this; — my  throne  assured — the  new 
nobility  I  have  raised,  around  it — London  true,  mar- 
row and  heart,  true — the  provinces  at  peace — the  ships 
and  the  steel  of  Burgundy  mine  allies!  Let  the  White 
Bear  growl  as  he  list,  the  Lion  of  March  is  lord  of 
the  forest.  And  now,  my  Bessee,"  added  the  king, 
changing  his  haughty  tone  into  a  gay,  careless  laugh, 
"  now  let  the  lion  enjoy  his  chase." 

He  kissed  the  gloved  hand  of  his  queen,  gallantly 
bending  over  his  saddle-bow,  and  the  next  moment 
he  was  by  the  side  of  a  younger,  if  not  a  fairer  lady, 
to  whom  he  was  devoting  the  momentary  worship  of 
his  inconstant  heart.  Elizabeth's  eyes  shot  an  angry 
gleam  as  she  beheld  her  faithless  lord  thus  engaged; 
but  so  accustomed  to  conceal  and  control  the  natural 
jealousy,  that  it  never  betrayed  itself  to  the  court  or 
to  her  husband,  she  soon  composed  her  countenance 
to  its  ordinary  smooth  and  artificial  smile,  and  re- 
joining her  mother,  she  revealed  what  had  passed. 
The  proud  and  masculine  spirit  of  the  duchess  felt  only 
joy  at  the  intelligence.  In  the  anticipated  humiliation 
of  Warwick,  she  forgot  all  cause  for  fear — not  so  her 
husband  and  son,  the  Lords  Rivers  and  Scales,  to 
whom  the  new's  soon  travelled. 

"  Anthony,"  whispered  the  father,  "  in  this  game 
we  have  staked  our  heads." 

"  But  our  right  hands  can  guard  them  well,  sir," 
answered  Anthony;  "and  so  God  and  the  ladies  for 
our  rights!  " 

Yet  this  bold  reply  did  not  satisfy  the  more  thought- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  327 

ful  judgment  of  the  lord  treasurer,  and  even  the  brave 
Anthony's  arrows  that  day  wandered  wide  of  their 
quarry. 

Amidst  this  gay  scene,  then,  there  were  anxious  and 
thoughtful  bosoms.  Lord  Rivers  was  silent  and  ab- 
stracted! his  son's  laugh  was  hollow  and  constrained; 
the  queen,  from  her  pavilion,  cast,  ever  and  anon,  down 
the  green  alleys  more  restless  and  prying  looks  than 
the  hare  or  the  deer  could  call  forth;  her  mother's 
brow  was  knit  and  flushed — and  keenly  were  those 
illustrious  persons  watched  by  one  deeply  interested 
in  the  coming  events.  Affecting  to  discharge  the 
pleasant  duty  assigned  him  by  the  king,  the  Lord 
Montagu  glided  from  tent  to  tent,  inquiring  courte- 
ously into 'the  accommodation  of  each  group,  linger- 
ing, smiling,  complimenting,  watching,  heeding,  study- 
ing, those  whom  he  addressed.  For  the  first  time 
since  the  Bastard's  visit,  he  had  joined  in  the  diver- 
sions in  its  honour,  and  yet  so  well  had  Montagu 
played  his  part  at  the  court,  that  he  did  not  excite 
amongst  the  queen's  relatives  any  of  the  hostile  feel- 
ings entertained  towards  his  brother.  No  man,  except 
Hastings,  was  so  "entirely  loved"  by  Edward;  and 
Montagu,  worldly  as  he  was,  and  indignant  against 
the  king,  as  he  could  not  fail  to  be,  so  far  repaid  the 
affection,  that  his  chief  fear  at  that  moment  sincerely 
was,  not  for  Warwick,  but  for  Edward.  He  alone  of 
those  present  was  aware  of  the  cause  of  Warwick's 
hasty  return,  for  he  had  privately  despatched  to  him 
the  news  of  the  Bastard's  visit,  its  real  object,  and 
the  inevitable  success  of  the  intrigues  afloat,  unless 
the  earl  could  return  at  once,  his  mission  accomplished, 
and  the  ambassadors  of  France  in  his  train;  and  even 
before  the  courier  despatched  to  the  king  had  arrived 


328  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

at  Shene,  a  private  hand  had  conveyed  to  Montagu 
the  information  that  Warwick,  justly  roused  and 
alarmed,  had  left  the  state  procession  behind  at  Dover, 
and  was  hurrying,  fast  as  relays  of  steeds  and  his  own 
fiery  spirit  could  bear  him,  to  the  presence  of  the  un- 
grateful king. 

Meanwhile  the  noon  had  now  declined,  the  sport 
relaxed,  and  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  from  the  king's 
pavilion  proclaimed  that  the  lazy  pastime  was  to  give 
place  to  the  luxurious  banquet. 

At  this  moment,  Montagu  approached  a  tent  remote 
from  the  royal  pavilions,  and,  as  his  noiseless  footstep 
crushed  the  grass,  he  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  in 
which  there  was  little  in  unison  with  the  worldly 
thoughts  that  filled  his  breast. 

"  Nay,  sweet  mistress,  nay,"  said  a  young  man's 
voice,  earnest  with  emotion — "  do  not  misthink  me — 
do  not  deem  me  bold  and  overweening.  I  have  sought 
to  smother  my  love  and  to  rate  it,  and  bring  pride  to 
my  aid,  but  in  vain ;  and,  now,  whether  you  will  scorn 
my  suit  or  not,  I  remember,  Sibyll — O  Sibyll!  I  re- 
member the  days  when  we  conversed  together,  and 
as  a  brother,  if  nothing  else — nothing  dearer — I  pray 
you  to  pause  well,  and  consider  what  manner  of  man 
this  Lord  Hastings  is  said  to  be!  " 

"  Master  Nevile,  is  this  generous? — why  afflict  me 
thus? — why  couple  my  name  with  so  great  a  lord's?" 

"  Because — beware — the  young  gallants  already  so 
couple  it,  and  their  prophecies  are  not  to  thine  honour, 
Sibyll.  Nay,  do  not  frown  on  me.  I  know  thou  art 
fair  and  winsome,  and  deftly  gifted,  and  they  father 
may,  for  aught  I  know,  be  able  to  coin  thee  a  queen's 
dower  out  of  his  awsome  engines.  But  Hastings  will 
not  wed  thee,  and  his  wooing,  therefore,  but  stains 
thy  fair  repute;  while  I " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  329 

"  You !  "  said  Montagu,  entering  suddenly1 — "  you, 
kinsman,  may  look  to  higher  fortunes  than  the  Duchess 
of  Bedford's  waiting-damsel  can  bring  to  thy  honest 
love.  How  now,  mistress,  say — wilt  thou  take  this 
young  gentleman  for  loving  fere  and  plighted  spouse? 
If  so,  he  shall  give  thee  a  manor  for  jointure,  and  thou 
shalt  wear  velvet  robe  and  gold  chain,  as  a  knight's 
wife." 

This  unexpected  interference,  which  was  perfectly 
in  character  with  the  great  lords,  who  frequently  wooed 
in  very  peremptory  tones  for  their  clients  and  kins- 
men,* completed  the  displeasure  which  the  blunt  Mar- 
maduke  had  already  called  forth  in  Sibyll's  gentle  but 
proud  nature.  "  Speak,  maiden,  ay  or  no?  "  continued 
Montagu,  surprised  and  angered  at  the  haughty  silence 
of  one  whom  he  just  knew  by  sight  and  name,  though 
he  had  never  before  addressed  her. 

"  No,  my  lord,"  answered  Sibyll,  keeping  down  her 
indignation  at  this  tone,  though  it  burned  in  her  cheek, 
flashed  in  her  eye,  and  swelled  in  the  heave  of  her 
breast.  "No!  and  your  kinsnian  might  have  spared 
this  affront  to  one  whom — but  it  matters  not."  She 
swept  from  the  tent  as  she  said  this,  and  passed  up 
the  alley,  into  that  of  the  queen's  mother. 

"  Best  so;  thou  art  too  young  for  marriage,  Marma- 
duke,"  said  Montagu,  coldly.  "  We  will  find  thee  a 
richer  bride  ere  long.  There  is  Mary  of  Winstown 
— the  archbishop's  ward — with  two  castles  and  seven 
knight's  fees." 

"  But  so  marvellously  ill-featured,  my  lord,"  said 
poor  Marmaduke,  sighing. 

*  See,  in  Miss  Strickland's  "  Life  of  Elizabeth  Woodville," 
the  curious  letters  which  the  Duke  of  York  and  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  addressed  to  her,  then  a  simple  maiden,  in  favour  of 
their  protege,  Sir  R.  Johnes. 


330 

Montagu  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "  Wives,  sir," 
he  said,  "  are  not  made  to  look  at, — unless,  indeed, 
they  be  the  wives  of  other  men.  But  dismiss  these 
follies  for  the  nonce.  Back  to  thy  post  by  the  king's 
pavilion;  and,  by  the  way,  ask  Lord  Fauconberg  and 
Aymer  Nevile,  whom  thou  wilt  pass  by  yonder  arbour 
— ask  them,  in  my  name,  to  be  near  the  pavilion  while 
the  king  banquets.  A  word  in  thine  ear — ere  yon 
sun  gilds  the  top  of  those  green  oaks,  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  will  be  with  Edward  IV.;  and,  come  what 
may,  some  brave  hearts  should  be  by  to  welcome  him. 
Go!" 

Without  tarrying  for  an  answer,  Montagu  turned 
into  one  of  the  tents,  wherein  Raoul  de  Fulke  and  the 
Lord  St.  John,  heedless  of  hind  and  hart,  conferred; 
and  Marmaduke,  much  bewildered,  and  bitterly  wroth 
with  Sibyll,  went  his  way. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE    GREAT    ACTOR    RETURNS    TO    FILL    THE    STAGE 

And  now,  in  various  groups,  these  summer  foresters 
were  at  rest  in  their  afternoon  banquet;  some  lying  on 
the  smooth  sward  around  the  lake — some  in  the  tents 
— some  again  in  the  arbours ;  here  and  there  the  forms 
of  dame  and  cavalier  might  be  seen,  stealing  apart 
from  the  rest,  and  gliding  down  the  alleys  till  lost  in 
the  shade — for  under  that  reign,  gallantry  was  uni- 
versal. Before  the  king's  pavilion  a  band  of  those 
merry  jongleurs,  into  whom  the  ancient  and  honoured 
minstrels  were  fast  degenerating,  stood  waiting  for 
the  signal  to  commence  their  sports,  and  listening  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  331 

the  laughter  that  came  in  frequent  peals  from  the  royal 
tent.  Within  feasted  Edward,  the  Count  de  la  Roche, 
the  Lord  Rivers;  while  in  a  larger  and  more  splendid 
pavilion,  at  some  little  distance,  the  queen,  her  mother, 
and  the  great  dames  of  the  court,  held  their  own  slighter 
and  less  noisy  repast. 

"  And  here,  then,"  said  Edward,  as  he  put  his  lips 
to  a  gold  goblet,  wrought  with  gems,  and  passed  it  to 
Anthony  the  Bastard — "  here,  count,  we  take  the  first 
wassail  to  the  loves  of  Charolois  and  Margaret!" 

The  count  drained  the  goblet,  and  the  wine  gave 
him  new  fire. 

"  And  with  those  loves,  king,"  said  he,  "  we  bind 
for  ever  Burgundy  and  England.  Woe  to  France!" 

"Ay,  woe  to  France!  "  exclaimed  Edward,  his  face 
lighting  up  with  that  martial  joy  which  it  evef  took 
at  the  thoughts  of  war — "  for  we  will  wrench  her  lands 
from  this  huckster,  Louis.  By  Heaven!  I  shall  not 
rest  in  peace  till  York  hath  regained  what  Lancaster 
hath  lost;  and  out  of  the  parings  of  the  realm  which 
I  will  add  to  England,  thy  brother  of  Burgundy  shall 
have  eno'  to  change  his  duke's  diadem  for  a  king's. 
How  now,  Rivers?  Thou  gloomest,  father  mine." 

"  My  liege,"  said  Rivers,  wakening  himself,  "I  did 
but  think  that  if  the  Earl  of  Warwick " 

"Ah!  I  had  forgotten,"  interrupted  Edward;  "and, 
sooth  to  say,  Count  Anthony,  I  think  if  the  earl  were 
by,  he  would  not  much  mend  our  boon-fellowship!" 

"  Yet  a  good  subject,"  said  De  la  Roche,  sneeringly, 
"  usually  dresses  his  face  by  that  of  his  king." 

"  A  subject!  Ay,  but  Warwick  is  much  such  a  sub- 
ject to  England  as  William  of  Normandy  or  Duke 
Rollo  was  to  France.  Howbeit,  let  him  come — our 
realm  is  at  peace — we  want  no  more  his  battle-axe; 


332  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

and  in  our  new  designs  on  France,  thy  brother,  bold 
count,  is  an  ally  that  might  compensate  for  a  greater 
loss  than  a  sullen  minister.  Let  him  come!" 

As  the  king  spoke,  there  was  heard  gently  upon 
the  smooth  turf  the  sound  of  the  hoofs  of  steeds.  A 
moment  more,  and  from  the  outskirts  of  the  scene  of 
revel,  where  the  king's  guards  were  stationed,  there 
arose  a  long,  loud  shout.  Nearer  and  nearer  came 
the  hoofs  of  the  steeds — they  paused.  "  Doubtless, 
Richard  of  Gloucester  by  that  shout!  The  soldiers 
love  that  brave  boy,"  said  the  king. 

Marmaduke  Nevile,  as  a  gentleman  in  waiting,  drew 
aside  the  curtain  of  the  pavilion;  and  as  he  uttered 
a  name  that  paled  the  cheeks  of  all  who  heard,  the 
Earl  of  Warwick  entered  the  royal  presence. 

The  earl's  dress  was  disordered  and  soiled  by  travel; 
the  black  plume  on  his  cap  was  broken,  and  hung 
darkly  over  his  face ;  his  horseman's  boots,  coming  half 
way  up  the  thigh,  were  sullied  with  the  dust  of  the 
journey;  and  yet  as  he  entered,  before  the  majesty 
of  his  mien,  the  grandeur  of  his  stature,  suddenly 
De  la  Roche,  Rivers,  even  the  gorgeous  Edward 
himself,  seemed  dwarfed  into  common  men !  About 
the  man — his  air,  his  eye,  his  form,  his  attitude — there 
was  THAT  which,  in  the  earlier  times,  made  kings  by 
the  acclamation  of  the  crowd, — an  unmistakable  sov- 
ereignty, as  of  one  whom  Nature  herself  had  shaped 
and  stamped  for  power  and  for  rule.  All  three  had 
risen  as  he  entered;  and  to  a  deep  silence  succeeded 
an  exclamation  from  Edward,  and  then  again  all  was 
still. 

The  earl  stood  a  second  or  two  calmly  gazing  on 
the  effect  he  had  produced;  and  turning  his  dark  eye 
from  one  to  the  other,  till  it  rested  full  upon  De  la 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  333 

Roche,  who,  after  vainly  striving  not  to  quail  beneath 
the  gaze,  finally  smiled  with  affected  disdain,  and, 
resting  his  hand  on  his  dagger,  sunk  back  into  his 
seat. 

"  My  liege,"  then  said  Warwick,  doffing  his  cap, 
and  approaching  the  king  with  slow  and  grave  respect, 
"  I  crave  pardon  for  presenting  myself  to  your  high- 
ness thus  travel-worn  and  disordered,  but  I  announce 
that  news  which  insures  my  welcome.  The  solemn 
embassy  of  trust  committed  to  me  by  your  grace  has 
prospered  with  God's  blessing;  and  the  Fils  de  Bour- 
bon and  the  Archbishop  of  Narbonne  are  on  their  way 
to  your  metropolis.  Alliance  between  the  two  great 
monarchies  of  Europe  is  concluded  on  terms  that 
insure  the  weal  of  England  and  augment  the  lustre  of 
your  crown.  Your  claims  on  Normandy  and  Guienne, 
King  Louis  consents  to  submit  to  the  arbitrement  of 
the  Roman  Pontiff,*  and  to  pay  to  your  treasury  an- 
nual tribute ;  these  advantages,  greater  than  your  high- 
ness even  empowered  me  to  demand,  thus  obtained, 
the  royal  brother  of  your  new  ally  joyfully  awaits  the 
hand  of  the  Lady  Margaret." 

"  Cousin,"  said  Edward,  who  had  thoroughly  re- 
covered himself, — motioning  the  earl  to  a  seat,  "  you 
are  ever  welcome,  no  matter  what  your  news;  but  I 
marvel  much  that  so  deft  a  statesman  should  broach 
these  matters  of  council  in  the  unseasonable  hour,  and 
before  the  gay  comrades,  of  a  revel." 

"  I  speak,  sire,"  said  Warwick,  calmly,  though  the 
veins  in  his  forehead  swelled,  and  his  dark  countenance 
was  much  flushed — "  I  speak  openly  of  that  which 

*  The  Pope,  moreover,  was  to  be  engaged  to  decide  the 
question  within  four  years.  A  more  brilliant  treaty  for  Eng- 
land Edward's  ambassador  could  not  have  effected. 


334  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

hath  been  done  nobly;  and  this  truth  has  ceased  to  be 
matter  of  council,  since  the  meanest  citizen  who  hath 
ears  arid  eyes,  ere  this,  must  know  for  what  purpose 
the  ambassadors  of  King  Louis  arrive  in  England  with 
your  highness's  representative." 

Edward,  more  embarrassed  at  this  tone  than  he 
could  have  foreseen,  remained  silent ;  but  De  la  Roche, 
impatient  to  humble  his  brother's  foe,  and  judging  it 
also  discreet  to  arouse  the  king,  said  carelessly — 

"  It  were  a  pity,  sir  earl,  that  the  citizens,  whom  you 
thus  deem  privy  to  the  thoughts  of  kings,  had  not 
prevised  the  Archbishop  of  Narbonne,  that  if  he  desire 
to  see  a  fairer  show  than  even  the  palaces  of  West- 
minster and  the  Tower,  he  will  hasten  back  to  behold 
the  banners  of  Burgundy  and  England  waving  from 
the  spires  of  Notre  Dame." 

Ere  the  Bastard  had  concluded,  Rivers,  leaning  back, 
whispered  the  king — "  For  Christ's  sake,  sire,  select 
some  fitter  scene  for  what  must  follow!  Silence  your 
guest !  " 

But  Edward,  on  the  contrary,  pleased  to  think  that 
De  la  Roche  was  breaking  the  ice,  and  hopeful  that 
some  burst  from  Warwick  would  give  him  more  ex- 
cuse than  he  felt  at  present  for  a  rupture,  said  sternly, 
"Hush,  my  lord,  and  meddle  not!" 

"  Unless  I  mistake,"  said  Warwick,  coldly,  "  he  who 
now  accosts  me  is  the  Count  de  la  Roche — a  for- 
eigner." 

"  And  the  brother  of  the  heir  of  Burgundy,"  inter- 
rupted De  la  Roche — "  brother  to  the  betrothed  and 
princely  spouse  of  Margaret  of  England." 

"  Doth  this  man  lie,  sire?"  said  Warwick,  who  had 
seated  himself  a  moment,  and  who  now  rose  again. 

The  Bastard  sprung  also  to  his  feet,  but  Edward, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  335 

waving  him  back,  and  reassuming  the  external  dignity 
which  rarely  forsook  him,  replied, — "  Cousin,  thy  ques- 
tion lacketh  courtesy  to  our  noble  guest:  since  thy 
departure,  reasons  of  state,  which  we  will  impart  to 
thee  at  a  meeter  season,  have  changed  our  purpose, 
and  we  will  now  that  our  sister  Margaret  shall  wed 
with  the  Count  of  Charolois." 

"  And  this  to  me,  king!  "  exclaimed  the  earl,  all 
his  passions  at  once  released — "  this  to  me ! — Nay, 
frown  not,  Edward — I  am  of  the  race  of  those  who, 
greater  than  kings,  have  built  thrones  and  toppled 
them !  I  tell  thee,  thou  hast  misused  mine  honour,  and 
belied  thine  own — thou  hast  debased  thyself  in  jug- 
gling me,  delegated  as  the  representative  of  thy  roy- 
alty!— Lord  Rivers,  stand  back — there  are  barriers 
eno'  between  truth  and  a  king!  " 

"By  St.  George  and  my  father's  head!"  cried  Ed- 
ward, with  a  rage  no  less  fierce  than  Warwick's — • 
"  thou  abusest,  false  lord,  my  mercy  and  our  kindred 
blood.  Another  word,  and  thou  leavest  this  pavilion 
for  the  Tower !  " 

"  King !  "  replied  Warwick,  scornfully,  and  folding 
his  arms  on  his  broad  breast — "  there  is  not  a  "hair  on 
this  head  which  thy  whole  house,  thy  guards,  and  thine 
armies  could  dare  to  touch.  ME  to  the  Tower !  Send 
me — and  when  the  third  sun  reddens  the  roof  of  prison- 
house  and  palace, — look  round  broad  England,  and 
miss  a  throne !  " 

"  What  ho  there !  "  exclaimed  Edward,  stamping  his 
foot ;  and  at  that  instant  the  curtain  of  the  pavilion  was 
hastily  torn  aside,  and  Richard  of  Gloucester  entered, 
followed  by  Lord  Hastings,  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  and 
Anthony  Woodville. 

"  Ah ! "   continued   the   king,   "  ye   come   in   time. 


336  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

George  of  Clarence,  Lord  High  Constable  of  England 
— arrest  yon  naughty  man,  who  dares  to  menace  his 
liege  and  suzerain !  " 

Gliding  between  Clarence,  who  stood  dumb  and 
thunder-stricken,  and  the  Earl  of  Warwick, — Prince 
Richard  said,  in  a  voice  which,  though  even  softer  than 
usual,  had  in  it  more  command  over  those  who  heard 
than  when  it  rolled  in  thunder  along  the  ranks  of  Barnet 
or  of  Bosworth, — "  Edward,  my  brother,  remember 
Teuton,  and  forbear — Warwick,  my  cousin,  forget  not 
thy  king  nor  his  dead  father !  " 

At  these  last  words  the  earl's  face  fell ;  for  to  that 
father  he  had  sworn  to  succour  and  defend  the  sons : 
his  sense  recovering  from  his  pride,  showed  him  how 
much  his  intemperate  anger  had  thrown  away  his  ad- 
vantages in  the  foul  wrong  he  had  sustained  from  Ed- 
ward. Meanwhile  the  king  himself,  with  flashing  eyes, 
and  a  crest  as  high  as  Warwick's,  was  about,  perhaps, 
to  overthrow  his  throne  by  the  attempt  to  enforce  his 
threat,  when  Anthony  Woodville,  who  followed  Clar- 
ence, whispered  to  him — "  Beware,  sire !  a  countless 
crowd  that  seem  to  have  followed  the  earl's  steps,  have 
already  pierced  the  chase,  and  can  scarcely  be  kept  from 
the  spot,  so  great  is  their  desire  to  behold  him.  Be- 
ware !  " — and  Richard's  quick  ear  catching  these  whis- 
pered words,  the  duk.e  suddenly  backed  them  by  again 
drawing  aside  the  curtain  of  the  tent.  Along  the 
sward,  the  guard  of  the  king  summoned  from  their  un- 
seen but  neighbouring  post  within  the  wood,  were 
drawn  up  as  if  to  keep  back  an  immense  multitude — 
men,  women,  children,  who  swayed,  and  rustled,  and 
rrhirmured  in  the  rear.  But  no  sooner  was  the  curtain 
drawn  aside,  and  the  guards  themselves  caught  sight 
of  the  royal  princes,  and  the  great  earl  towering  amidst 


King!  there  is  not  a  hair  on  this  head  which  thy  whole 
house  could  dare  to  touch." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  337 

them,  than  supposing,  in  their  ignorance,  the  scene 
thus  given  to  them  was  intended  for  their  gratification, 
from  that  old  soldiery  of  Teuton  rose  a  loud  and  long 
"  Hurrah — Warwick  and  the  king  " — "  The  king  and 
the  stout  earl."  The  mutitude  behind  caught  the  cry ; 
they  rushed  forward,  mingling  with  the  soldiery,  who 
no  longer  sought  to  keep  them  back. 

"  A  Warwick !  a  Warwick !  "  they  shouted. 

"  God  bless  the  people's  friend !  " 

Edward,  startled  and  aghast,  drew  sullenly  into  the 
rear  of  the  tent. 

De  la  Roche  grew  pale,  but  with  the  promptness  of 
a  practised  statesman,  he  hastily  advanced,  and  drew 
the  curtain. 

"  Shall  varlets,"  he  said  to  Richard,  in  French, 
"  gloat  over  the  quarrels  of  their  lords  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,  Sir  Count,"  murmured  Richard, 
meekly;  his  purpose  was  effected,  and  leaning  on  his 
riding  staff,  he  awaited  what  was  to  ensue. 

A  softer  shade  had  fallen  over  the  earl's  face,  at  the 
proof  of  the  love  in  which  his  name  was  held ;  it  almost 
seemed  to  his  noble,  though  haughty  and  impatient  na- 
ture, as  if  the  affection  of  the  people  had  reconciled 
him  to  the  ingratitude  of  the  king.  A  tear  started  to 
his  proud  eye,  but  he  twinkled  it  away,  and  approach- 
ing Edward  (who  remained  erect,  and  with  all  a  sov- 
ereign's wrath,  though  silent  on  his  lip,  lowering  on 
his  brow),  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  suppressed  emotion: — 

"  Sire,  it  is  not  for  me  to  crave  pardon  of  living  man 
but  the  grievous  affront  put  upon  my  state  and  mine 
honour,  hath  led  my  words  to  an  excess  which  my  heart 
repents.  I  grieve  that  your  grace's  highness  hath 
chosen  this  alliance;  hereafter  you  may  find  at  need 
what  faith  is  to  be  placed  in  Burgundy." 
VOL.  I. — 22 


338  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Barest  them  gainsay  it  ?  "  exclaimed  De  la  Roche. 

"  Interrupt  me  not,  sir !  "  continued  Warwick,  with 
a  disdainful  gesture.  "  My  liege,  I  lay  down  mine 
offices,  and  I  leave  it  to  your  grace  to  account  as  it  lists 
you  to  the  ambassadors  of  France — I  shall  vindicate 
myself  to  their  king.  And  now,  ere  I  depart  for  my 
hall  of  Middleham,  I  alone  here,  unarmed,  and  unat- 
tended, save,  at  least,  by  a  single  squire,  I,  Richard 
Nevile,  say,  that  if  any  man,  peer  or  knight,  can  be 
found  to  execute  your  grace's  threat,  and  arrest  me,  I 
will  obey  your  royal  pleasure,  and  attend  him  to  the 
Tower."  Haughtily  he  bowed  his  head  as  he  spoke, 
and  raising  it  again,  gazed  around — "  I  await  your 
grace's  pleasure." 

"  Begone  where  thou  wilt,  earl.  From  this  day  Ed- 
ward IV.  reigns  alone,"  said  the  king.  Warwick 
turned. 

"  My  Lord  Scales,"  said  he,  "  lift  the  curtain ;  nay, 
sir,  it  misdemeans  you  not.  You  are  still  the  son  of 
the  Woodville,  I  still  the  descendant  of  John  of 
Gaunt." 

"  Not  for  the  dead  ancestor,  but  for  the  living  war- 
rior," said  the  Lord  Scales,  lifting  the  curtain,  and 
bowing  with  knightly  grace  as  the  earl  passed.  And 
scarcely  was  Warwick  in  the  open  space,  than  the 
crowd  fairly  broke  through  all  restraint,  and  the 
clamour  of  their  joy  filled  with  its  hateful  thunders  the 
royal  tent. 

"  Edward,"  said  Richard,  whisperingly,  and  laying 
his  finger  on  his  brother's  arm — "  forgive  me  if  I  of- 
fended, but  had  you,  at  such  a  time,  resolved  on  vio- 
lence  " 

"  I  see  it  all — you  were  right.  But  is  this  to  be  en- 
dured for  ever  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  339 

"  Sire,"  returned  Richard,  with  his  dark  smile,  "  rest 
calm ;  for  the  age  is  your  best  ally,  and  the  age  is  out- 
growing the  steel  and  hauberk.  A  little  while,  and " 

"  And  what " 

"  And — ah,  sire,  I  will  answer  that  question  when 
our  brother  George  (mark  him!)  either  refrains  from 
listening,  or  is  married  to  Isabel  Nevile,  and  hath  quar- 
rel with  her  rather  about  the  dowry.  What,  ho,  there ! 
— let  the  jongleurs  perform." 

"  The  jongleurs !  "  exclaimed  the  king;  "  why,  Rich- 
ard, thou  hast  more  levity  than  myself !  " 

"  Pardon  me !  Let  the  jongleurs  perform,  and  bid 
the  crowd  stay.  It  is  by  laughing  at  the  mountebanks 
that  your  grace  can  best  lead  the  people  to  forget  their 
Warwick!" 


CHAPTER  X 

HOW    THE    GREAT    LORDS    COME    TO    THE    KING-MAKER, 
AND   WITH    WHAT    PROFFERS 

Mastering  the  emotions  that  swelled  within  him, 
Lord  Warwick  returned,  with  his  wonted  cheerful 
courtesy,  the  welcome  of  the  crowd,  and  the  enthu- 
siastic salutations  of  the  king's  guard  ;  but  as,  at  length, 
he  mounted  his  steed,  and  attended  but  by  the  squire 
who  had  followed  him  from  Dover,  penetrated  into  the 
solitudes  of  the  chase,  the  recollection  of  the  indignity 
he  had  suffered  smote  his  proud  heart  so  sorely,  that 
he  groaned  aloud.  His  squire,  fearing  the  fatigue  he 
had  undergone  might  have  affected  even  that  iron 
health,  rode  up  at  the  sound  of  the  groan,  and  War- 
wick's face  was  hueless  as  he  said,  with  a  forced  smile — • 
"  It  is  nothing,  Walter.  But  these  heats  are  oppres- 


340  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

sive,  and  we  have  forgotten  our  morning  draught, 
friend.  Hark!  I  hear  the  brawl  of  a  rivulet,  and  a 
drink  of  fresh  water  were  more  grateful  now  than  the 
daintiest  hippocras."  So  saying,  he  flung  himself  from 
his  steed ;  following  the  sound  of  the  rivulet,  he  gained 
its  banks,  and  after  quenching  his  thirst  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand,  laid  himself  down  upon  the  long  grass, 
waving  coolly  over  the  margin,  and  fell  into  profound 
thought.  From  this  reverie  he  was  roused  by  a  quick 
footstep,  and  as  he  lifted  his  gloomy  gaze,  he  beheld 
Marmaduke  Nevile  by  his  side. 

"Well,  young  man,"  said  he  sternly,  "with  what 
messages  art  thou  charged?  " 

"  With  none,  my  lord  earl.  I  await  now  no  com- 
mands but  thine." 

"  Thou  knowest  not,  poor  youth,  that  I  can  serve 
thee  no  more.  Go  back  to  the  court." 

"  Oh,  Warwick,"  said  Marmaduke,  with  simple  elo- 
quence, "  send  me  not  from  thy  side !  This  day  I 
have  been  rejected  by  the  maid  I  loved.  I  loved  her 
well,  and  my  heart  chafed  sorely,  and  bled  within ! 
but  now,  methinks,  it  consoles  me  to  have  been  so  cast 
off — to  have  no  faith,  no  love,  but  that  which  is  best 
of  all,  to  a  brave  man, — love  and  faith  for  a  hero- 
chief!  Where  thy  fortunes,  there  be  my  humble  fate 
— to  rise  or  fall  with  thee !  " 

Warwick  looked  intently  upon  his  young  kinsman's 
face,  and  said,  as  to  himself,  "  Why,  this  is  strange !  I 
gave  no  throne  to  this  man,  and  he  deserts  me  not! 
My  friend,"  he  added,  aloud,  "  have  they  told  thee 
already  that  I  am  disgraced  ?  " 

"  I  heard  the  Lord  Scales  say  to  the  young  Lovell, 
that  thou  wert  dismissed  from  all  thine  offices ;  and  I 
came  hither;  for  I  will  serve  no  more  the  king  who 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  341 

forgets  the  arm  and  heart  to  which  he  owes  a  king- 
dom." 

"  Man,  I  accept  thy  loyalty !  "  exclaimed  Warwick, 
starting  to  his  feet ;  "  and  know  that  thou  hast  done 
more  to  melt,  and  yet  to  nerve  my  spirit  than — but 
complaints  in  me  are  idle,  and  praise  were  no  reward 
to  thee." 

"  But  see,  my  lord,  if  the  first  to  join  thee,  I  am  not 
the  sole  one.  See,  brave  Raoul  de  Fulke,  the  Lords 
of  St.  John,  Bergavenny,  and  Fitzhugh,  ay,  and  fifty 
others  of  the  best  blood  of  England,  are  on  thy  track." 

And  as  he  spoke,  plumes  and  tunics  were  seen 
gleaming  up  the  forest  path,  and  in  another  moment  a 
troop  of  knights  and  gentlemen,  comprising  the  flower 
of  such  of  the  ancient  nobility  as  yet  lingered  round 
the  court,  came  up  to  Warwick,  bareheaded. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  cried  Raoul  de  Fulke,  "  that  we 
have  heard  aright,  noble  earl?  And  has  Edward  IV. 
suffered  the  base  Woodvilles  to  triumph  over  the  bul- 
wark of  his  realm  ?  " 

"  Knights  and  gentles !  "  said  Warwick,  with  a  bit- 
ter smile,  "  is  it  so  uncommon  a  thing  that  men  in 
peace  should  leave  the  battle-axe  and  brand  to  rust? 
I  am  but  a  useless  weapon,  to  be  suspended  at  rest 
amongst  the  trophies  of  Teuton  in  my  hall  of  Middle- 
ham." 

"  Return  with  us,"  said  the  Lord  of  St.  John,  "  and 
we  will  make  Edward  do  thee  justice,  or,  one  and  all, 
we  will  abandon  a  court  where  knaves  and  varlets 
have  become  mightier  than  English  valour,  and 
nobler  than  Norman  birth." 

"  My  friends,"  said  the  earl,  laying  his  hand  on  St. 
John's  shoulder,  "  not  even  in  my  just  wrath  will  I 
wrong  my  king.  He  is  punished  eno'  in  the  choice  he 


342  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

hath  made.  Poor  Edward  and  poor  England !  What 
woes  and  wars  await  ye  both,  from  the  gold,  and  the 
craft,  and  the  unsparing  hate  of  Louis  XL!  No;  if 
I  leave  Edward,  he  hath  more  need  of  you.  Of  mine 
own  free  will,  I  have  resigned  mine  offices." 

"  Warwick,"  interrupted  Raoul  de  Fulke,  "  this  de- 
ceives us  not ;  and  in  disgrace  to  you,  the  ancient  bar- 
ons of  England  behold  the  first  blow  at  their  own 
state.  We  have  wrongs  we  endured  in  silence,  while 
thou  wert  the  shield  and  sword  of  yon  merchant-king. 
We  have  seen  the  ancient  peers  of  England  set  aside 
for  men  of  yesterday ;  we  have  seen  our  daughters, 
sisters, — nay,  our  very  mothers — if  widowed  and  dow- 
ered— forced  into  disreputable  and  base  wedlock,  with 
creatures  dressed  in  titles,  and  gilded  with  wealth 
stolen  from  ourselves.  Merchants  and  artificers 
tread  upon  our  knightly  heels,  and  the  avarice  of 
trade  eats  up  our  chivalry  as  a  rust.  We  nobles,  in 
our  greater  day,  have  had  the  crown  at  our  disposal, 
and  William  the  Norman  dared  not  think  what  Ed- 
ward Earl  of  March  hath  been  permitted  with  im- 
punity to  do.  We,  sir  earl — we  knights  and  barons — 
ivould  a  king  simple  in  his  manhood,  and  princely  in 
his  truth.  Richard  Earl  of  Warwick,  thou  art  of  royal 
blood — the  descendant  of  old  John  of  Gaunt.  In  thee 
we  behold  the  true,  the  living  likeness  of  the  Third 
Edward,  and  the  Hero-Prince  of  Cressy.  Speak  but 
the  word,  and  we  make  thee  king!  " 

The  descendant  of  the  Norman,  the  representative 
of  the  mighty  faction  that  no  English  monarch  had 
ever  braved  in  vain,  looked  round  as  he  said  these 
last  words,  and  a  choral  murmur  was  heard  through 
the  whole  of  that  august  nobility — "  We  make  thee 
king!" 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  343 

"  Richard,  descendant  of  the  Plantagenet,*  speak 
the  word,"  repeated  Raoul  de  Fulke. 

"  I  speak  it  not,"  interrupted  Warwick ;  "  nor  shalt 
thou  continue,  brave  Raoul  de  Fulke.  What,  my 
lords  and  gentlemen,"  he  added,  drawing  himself  up, 
and  with  his  countenance  animated  with  feelings  it  is 
scarcely  possible  in  our  times  to  sympathise  with  or 
make  clear — "  what !  think  you  that  Ambition  limits 
itself  to  the  narrow  circlet  of  a  crown  ?  Greater,  and 
more  in  the  spirit  of  our  mighty  fathers,  is  the  con- 
dition of  men  like  us,  THE  BARONS  who  make  and  un- 
make kings.  What !  who  of  us  would  not  rather  de- 
scend from  the  chiefs  of  Runnymede  than  from  the 
royal  craven  whom  they  controlled  and  chid?  By 
Heaven,  my  lords,  Richard  Nevile  has  too  proud  a 
soul  to  be  a  king!  A  king — a  puppet  of  state  and 
form ;  a  king — a  holiday  show  for  the  crowd,  to  hiss 
or  hurrah,  as  the  humour  seizes.  A  king — a  beggar 
to  the  nation,  wrangling  with  his  parliament  for  gold ! 
A  king! — Richard  II.  was  a  king,  and  Lancaster  de- 
throned him.  Ye  would  debase  me  to  a  Henry  of 
Lancaster.  Mort  Dieu !  I  thank  ye.  The  Commons 
and  the  Lords  raised  him,  forsooth, — for  what?  To 
hold  him  as  the  creature  they  had  made,  to  rate  him, 
to  chafe  him,  to  pry  into  his  very  household,  and  quar- 
rel with  his  wife's  chamberlains  and  lavourers.f 
What !  dear  Raoul  de  Fulke,  is  thy  friend  fallen  now 
so  low,  that  he — Earl  of  Salisbury  and  of  Warwick, 
chief  of  the  threefold  race  of  Montagu,  Monthermer, 

*  By  the  female  side,  through  Joan  Beaufort,  or  Plantagenet, 
Warwick  was  third  in  descent  from  John  of  Gaunt,  as  Henry 
VII.,  through  the  male  line,  was  fourth  in  descent. 

f  Laundresses.  The  Parliamentary  Rolls,  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  IV.,  abound  in  curious  specimens  of  the  interference  of 
the  Commons  with  the  household  of  Henry's  wife,  Queen  Joan. 


344  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

and  Nevile,  lord  of  a  hundred  baronies,  leader  of  sixty 
thousand  followers — is  not  greater  than  Edward  of 
March,  to  whom  we  will  deign  still,  with  your  permis- 
sion, to  vouchsafe  the  name  and  pageant  of  a  king?  " 

This  extraordinary  address,  strange  to  say,  so  thor- 
oughly expressed  the  peculiar  pride  of  the  old  barons, 
that  when  it  ceased  a  sound  of  admiration  and  ap- 
plause circled  through  that  haughty  audience,  and 
Raoul  de  Fulke,  kneeling  suddenly,  kissed  the  earl's 
hand :  "  Oh,  noble  earl,"  he  said,  "  ever  live  as  one  of 
us,  to  maintain  our  order,  and  teach  kings  and  nations 
what  WE  are." 

"  Fear  it  not,  Raoul !  fear  it  not — we  will  have  our 
rights  yet.  Return,  I  beseech  ye.  Let  me  feel  I 
have  such  friends  about  the  king.  Even  at  Middle- 
ham,  my  eye  shall  watch  over  our  common  cause; 
and  till  seven  feet  of  earth  suffice  him,  your  brother 
baron,  Richard  Nevile,  is  not  a  man  whom  kings  and 
courts  can  forget,  much  less  dishonour.  Sirs,  our 
honour  is  in  our  bosoms, — and  there,  is  the  only 
throne  armies  cannot  shake,  nor  cozeners  under- 
mine." 

With  these  words  he  gently  waved  his  hand,  mo- 
tioned to  his  squire,  who  stood  out  of  hearing  with 
the  steeds,  to  approach,  and  mounting,  gravely  rode 
on.  Ere  he  had  got  many  paces,  he  called  to  Marma- 
duke,  who  was  on  foot,  and  bade  him  follow  him  to 
London  that  night.  "  I  have  strange  tidings  to  tell 
the  French  envoys,  and  for  England's  sake  I  must 
soothe  their  anger,  if  I  can,— then  to  Middleham." 

The  nobles  returned  slowly  to  the  pavilions.  And 
as  they  gained  the  open  space,  where  the  gaudy  tents 
still  shone  against  the  setting  sun,  they  beheld  the 
mob  of  that  day,  whom  Shakespeare  hath  painted  with 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  345 

such  contempt,  gathering,  laughing  and  loud,  around 
the  mountebank  and  the  conjuror,  who  had  already 
replaced  in  their  thoughts  (as  Gloucester  had  fore- 
seen) the  hero-idol  of  their  worship. 


BOOK  V 

THE   LAST    OF    THE   BARONS   IN   HIS   FATHER'S 
HALLS 

CHAPTER   I 

RURAL    ENGLAND   IN    THE    MIDDLE   AGES NOBLE   VISIT- 
ORS   SEEK    THE    CASTLE    OF    MIDDLEHAM 

Autumn  had  succeeded  to  summer — winter  to  au- 
tumn— and  the  spring  of  1468  was  green  in  England, 
when  a  gallant  cavalcade  were  seen  slowly  winding 
the  ascent  of  a  long  and  gradual  hill,  towards  the  de- 
cline of  day.  Different,  indeed,  from  the  aspect  which 
that  part  of  the  country  now  presents  was  the  land- 
scape that  lay  around  them,  bathed  in  the  smiles  of  the 
westering  sun.  In  a  valley  to  the  left,  a  full  view  of 
which  the  steep  road  commanded  (where  now  roars 
the  din  of  trade  through  a  thousand  factories),  lay  a 
long  secluded  village.  The  houses,  if  so  they  might 
be  called,  were  constructed  entirely  of  wood,  and  that 
of  the  more  perishable  kind — willow,  sallow,  elm,  and 
plumtree.  Not  one  could  boast  a  chimney;  but  the 
smoke  from  the  single  fire  in  each,  after  duly  darken- 
ing the  atmosphere  within,  sent  its  surplusage,  lazily 
and  fitfully,  through  a  circular  aperture  in  the  roof.  In 
fact,  there  was  long  in  the  provinces  a  prejudice  against 
chimneys !  The  smoke  was  considered  good  both  for 
house  and  owner ;  the  first  it  was  supposed  to  season, 
and  the  last  to  guard  "  from  rheums,  catarrhs,  and 

346 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  347 

poses."  *  Neither  did  one  of  these  habitations  boast 
the  comfort  of  a  glazed  window,  the  substitute  being 
lattice,  or  chequer-work — even  in  the  house  of  the 
franklin,  which  rose  statelily  above  the  rest,  encom- 
passed with  barns  and  outsheds.  And  yet  greatly 
should  we  err  did  we  conceive  that  these  deficiencies 
were  an  index  to  the  general  condition  of  the  work- 
ing-class. Far  better  off  was  the  labourer,  when  em- 
ployed, than  now.  Wages  were  enormously  high, 
meat  extremely  low ;  f  and  our  mother-land  bounti- 
fully maintained  her  children. 

On  that  greensward,  before  the  village  (now  foul 
and  reeking  with  the  squalid  population,  whom  com- 
merce rears  up — the  victims,  as  the  movers  of  the 
modern  world)  were  assembled  youth  and  age;  for  it 
was  a  holiday  evening,  and  the  stern  Puritan  had  not 
yet  risen  to  sour  the  face  of  Mirth.  Well  clad  in 
leathern  jerkin,  or  even  broadcloth,  the  young  peas- 
ants vied  with  each  other  in  quoits  and  wrestling ;  while 
the  merry  laughter  of  the  girls,  in  their  gay-coloured 
kirtles,  and  ribboned  hair,  rose  oft  and  cheerily  to  the 
ears  of  the  cavalcade.  From  a  gentle  eminence  be- 
yond the  village,  and  half  veiled  by  trees,  on  which  the 
first  verdure  of  spring  was  budding  (where  now, 

*  So  worthy  Hollinshed,  Book  II.,  c.  22. — "  Then  had  we 
none  but  reredosses,  and  our  heads  did  never  ache.  For  as 
the  smoke,  in  those  days,  was  supposed  to  be  a  sufficient 
hardening  for  the  timber  of  the  house,  so  it  was  reputed  a  far 
better  medicine  to  keep  the  goodman  and  his  familie  from  the 
quacke,  or  pose,  wherewith  as  then  very  few  were  oft  ac- 
quainted." 

t  See  Hallam's  "  Middle  Ages,"  chap,  xx.,  Part  II.  So  also 
Hollinshed,  Book  XL,  c.  12,  comments  on  the  amazement  of 
the  Spaniards,  in  Queen  Mary's  time,  when  they  saw,  "  what 
large  diet  was  used  in  these  so  homelie  cottages,"  and  reports 
one  of  the  Spaniards  to  have  said,  "  These  English  have  their 
houses  of  sticks  and  dirt,  but  they  fare  commonlie  so  well  as 
the  king !  " 


348  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

around  the  gin-shop  gather  the  fierce  and  sickly  chil- 
dren of  toil  and  of  discontent),  rose  the  venerable 
walls  of  a  monastery,  and  the  chime  of  its  heavy  bell 
swung  far  and  sweet  over  the  pastoral  landscape.  To 
the  right  of  the  road  (where  now  stands  the  sober 
meeting-house)  was  one  of  those  small  shrines  so  fre- 
quent in  Italy,  with  an  image  of  the  Virgin  gaudily 
painted,  and  before  it  each  cavalier  in  the  procession 
halted  an  instant  to  cross  himself,  and  mutter  an  ave. 
Beyond,  still  to  the  right,  extended  vast  chains  of  wood- 
land, interspersed  with  strips  of  pasture,  upon  which 
numerous  flocks  were  grazing,  with  horses,  as  yet  un- 
broken to  bit  and  selle,  that  neighed  and  snorted  as  they 
caught  scent  of  their  more  civilised  brethren  pacing  up 
the  road. 

In  front  of  the  cavalcade  rode  two,  evidently  of  su- 
perior rank  to  the  rest.  The  one  small  and  slight,  with 
his  long  hair  flowing  over  his  shoulders ;  and  the  other, 
though  still  young,  many  years  older;  and  indicating 
his  clerical  profession  by  the  absence  of  all  love-locks, 
compensated  by  a  curled  and  glossy  beard,  trimmed 
with  the  greatest  care.  But  the  dress  of  the  ecclesiastic 
was  as  little  according  to  our  modern  notions  of  what 
beseems  the  church  as  can  well  be  conceived :  his  tunic 
and  surcoat,  of  a  rich  amber,  contrasted  well  with  the 
clear  darkness  of  his  complexion ;  his  piked  shoes  or 
beakers,  as  they  were  called,  turned  up  half-way  to  the 
knee ;  the  buckles  of  his  dress  were  of  gold,  inlaid  with 
gems;  and  the  housings  of  his  horse,  which  was  of 
great  power,  were  edged  with  gold  fringe.  By  the  side 
of  his  steed  walked  a  tall  greyhound,  upon  which  he 
ever  and  anon  glanced  with  affection.  Behind  these 
rode  two  gentlemen,  whose  golden  spurs  announced 
knighthood ;  and  then  followed  a  long  train  of  squires 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  349 

and  pages,  richly  clad  and  accoutred,  bearing  gener- 
ally the  Nevile  badge  of  the  bull ;  though  interspersed 
amongst  the  retinue  might  be  seen  the  grim  boar's 
head,  which  Richard  of  Gloucester,  in  right  of  his 
duchy,  had  assumed  as  his  cognisance. 

"  Nay,  sweet  prince,"  said  the  ecclesiastic,  "  I  pray 
thee  to  consider  that  a  greyhound  is  far  more  of  a  gen- 
tleman than  any  other  of  the  canine  species.  Mark  his 
stately  yet  delicate  length  of  limb — his  sleek  coat — his 
keen  eye — his  haughty  neck." 

"  These  are  but  the  externals,  my  noble  friend.  Will 
the  greyhound  attack  the  lion,  as  our  mastiff  doth  ?  The 
true  character  of  the  gentleman  is  to  know  no  fear,  and 
to  rush  through  all  danger  at  the  throat  of  his 
foe ;  wherefore  I  uphold  the  dignity  of  the  mastiff 
above  all  his  tribe,  though  others  have  a  daintier  hide, 
and  a  statelier  crest.  Enough  of  such  matters,  arch- 
bishop— we  are  nearing  Middleham." 

"  The  saints  be  praised !  for  I  am  hungered,"  ob- 
served the  archbishop,  piously :  "  but,  sooth  to  say,  my 
cook  at  the  More  far  excelleth  what  we  can  hope  to 
find  at  the  board  of  my  brother.  He  hath  some  faults, 
our  Warwick !  Hasty  and  careless,  he  hath  not  thought 
eno'  of  the  blessings  he  might  enjoy,  and  many  a  poor 
abbot  hath  daintier  fair  on  his  humble  table." 

"  Oh,  George  Nevile !  who  that  heard  thee,  when  thou 
talkest  of  hounds  and  interments,*  would  recognise 
the  Lord  Chancellor  of  England — the  most  learned  dig- 
nitary— the  most  subtle  statesman  ?  " 

"  And  oh,  Richard  Plantagenet !  "  retorted  the  arch- 
bishop, dropping  the  mincing  and  affected  tone,  which 
he  in  common  with  the  coxcombs  of  that  day  usually 
assumed,  "  who  that  heard  thee,  when  thou  talkest  of 
*  Interments,  entremets  (side  dishes). 


350  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

humility  and  devotion,  would  recognise  the  sternest 
heart  and  the  most  daring  ambition  God  ever  gave  to 
prince  ?  " 

Richard  started  at  these  words,  and  his  eye  shot  fire 
as  it  met  the  keen  calm  gaze  of  the  prelate. 

"  Nay,  your  grace  wrongs  me,"  he  said,  gnawing  his 
lip — "  or  I  should  not  say  wrongs,  but  flatters ;  for 
sternness  and  ambition  are  no  vices  in  a  Nevile's  eyes." 

"  Fairly  answered,  royal  son,"  said  the  archbishop, 
laughing ;  "  but  let  us  be  frank. — Thou  hast  persuaded 
me  to  accompany  thee  to  Lord  Warwick  as  a  mediator ; 
the  provinces  in  the  north  are  disturbed ;  the  intrigues 
of  Margaret  of  Anjou  are  restless;  the  king  reaps 
what  he  has  sown  in  the  Court  of  France,  and,  as  War- 
wick foretold,  the  emissaries  and  gold  of  Louis  are  ever 
at  work  against  his  throne :  the  great  barons  are  moody 
and  discontented ;  and  our  liege  King  Edward  is  at  last 
aware  that,  if  the  Earl  of  Warwick  do  not  return  to  his 
councils,  the  first  blast  of  a  hostile  trumpet  may  drive 
him  from  his  throne.  Well,  I  attend  thee :  my  fortunes 
are  woven  with  those  of  York,  and  my  interest  and  my 
loyalty  go  hand  in  hand.  Be  equally  frank  with  me. 
Hast  thou,  Lord  Richard,  no  interest  to  serve  in  this 
mission  save  that  of  the  public  weal !  " 

"  Thou  forgettest  that  the  Lady  Isabel  is  dearly  loved 
by  Clarence,  and  that  I  would  fain  see  removed  all  bar- 
rier to  his  nuptial  bliss.  But  yonder  rise  the  towers  of 
Middleham.  Beloved  walls,  which  sheltered  my  child- 
hood !  and,  by  holy  Paul,  a  noble  pile,  which  would  re- 
sist an  army,  or  hold  one." 

While  thus  conversed  the  prince  and  the  archbishop, 
the  Earl  of  Warwick,  musing  and  alone,  slowly  paced 
the  lofty  terrace  that  crested  the  battlements  of  his 
outer  fortifications. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  351 

In  vain  had  that  restless  and  powerful  spirit  sought 
content  in  retirement.  Trained  from  his  childhood  to 
active  life — to  move  mankind  to  and  fro  at  his  beck — 
this  single  and  sudden  interval  of  repose  in  the  prime 
of  his  existence,  at  the  height  of  his  fame,  served  but 
to  swell  the  turbulent  and  dangerous  passions  to  which 
all  vent  was  forbidden. 

The  statesman  of  modern  days  has  at  least  food  for 
intellect,  in  letters,  when  deprived  of  action ;  but  with 
all  his  talents,  and  thoroughly  cultivated  as  his  mind 
was  in  the  camp,  the  council,  and  the  state,  the  great 
earl  cared  for  nothing  in  book-lore,  except  some  rude 
ballad  that  told  of  Charlemagne  or  Rollo.  The  sports 
that  had  pleased  the  leisure  of  his  earlier  youth  were 
tedious  and  flat  to  one  snatched  from  so  mighty  a  ca- 
reer. His  hound  lay  idle  at  his  feet,  his  falcon  took 
holiday  on  the  perch,  his  jester  was  banished  to  the 
page's  table. — Behold  the  repose  of  this  great  unlet- 
tered spirit!  But  while  his  mind  was  thus  debarred 
from  its  native  sphere,  all  tended  to  pamper  Lord  War- 
wick's infirmity  of  pride.  The  ungrateful  Edward 
might  forget  him ;  but  the  king  seemed  to  stand  alone 
in  that  oblivion.  The  mightiest  peers,  the  most  re- 
nowned knights,  gathered  to  his  hall.  Middleham,  not 
Windsor,  nor  Shene,  nor  Westminster,  nor  the  Tower, 
seemed  the  COURT  OF  ENGLAND.  As  the  Last  of  the 
Barons  paced  his  terrace,  far  as  his  eye  could  reach  his 
broad  domains  extended,  studded  with  villages,  and 
towns,  and  castles,  swarming  with  his  retainers.  The 
whole  country  seemed  in  mourning  for  his  absence. 
The  name  of  Warwick  was  in  all  men's  mouths,  and 
not  a  group  gathered  in  market-place  or  hostel,  but 
what  the  minstrel  who  had  some  ballad  in  praise  of  the 
stout  earl  found  a  rapt  and  thrilling  audience. 


352  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  And  is  the  river  of  my  life,"  muttered  Warwick, 
"  shrunk  into  this  stagnant  pool !  Happy  the  man  who 
hath  never  known  what  it  is  to  taste  of  Fame — to  have 
it  is  a  purgatory,  to  want  it  is  a  hell !  " 

Wrapped  in  this  gloomy  self-commune,  he  heard  not 
the  light  step  that  sought  his  side,  till  a  tender  arm  was 
thrown  around  him,  and  a  face  in  which  sweet  temper 
and  pure  thought  had  preserved  to  matronly  beauty  all 
the  bloom  of  youth,  looked  up  smilingly  to  his  own. 

"  My  lord — my  Richard,"  said  the  countess,  "  why 
didst  thou  steal  so  churlishly  from  me?  Hath  there, 
alas !  come  a  time  when  thou  deemest  me  unworthy  to 
share  thy  thoughts,  or  soothe  thy  troubles  ?  " 

"  Fond  one !  no,"  said  Warwick,  drawing  the  form 
still  light,  though  rounded,  nearer  to  his  bosom.  "  For 
nineteen  years  hast  thou  been  to  me  a  leal  and  loving 
wife.  Thou  wert  a  child  on  our  wedding-day,  m'amie, 
and  I  but  a  beardless  youth ;  yet  wise  enough  was  I  then 
to  see,  at  the  first  glance  of  thy  blue  eye,  that  there  was 
more  treasure  in  thy  heart  than  in  all  the  lordships  thy 
hand  bestowed." 

"  My  Richard !  "  murmured  the  countess,  and  her 
tears  of  grateful  delight  fell  on  the  hand  she  kissed. 

"  Yes,  let  us  recall  those  early  and  sweet  days,"  con- 
tinued Warwick,  with  a  tenderness  of  voice  and  man- 
ner that  strangers  might  have  marvelled  at,  forgetting 
how  tenderness  is  almost  ever  a  part  of  such  peculiar 
manliness  of  character — "  yes,  sit  we  here  under  this 
spacious  elm,  and  think  that  our  youth  has  come  back 
to  us  once  more.  For  verily,  m'amie,  nothing  in  life  has 
ever  been  so  fair  to  me,  as  those  days  when  we  stood 
hand  in  hand  on  its  threshold,  and  talked,  boy-bride- 
groom and  child-bride  as  we  were,  of  the  morrow  that 
lay  beyond." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  353 

"  Ah,  Richard,  even  in  those  days  thy  ambition 
sometimes  vexed  my  woman  vanity,  and  showed  me 
that  I  could  never  be  all  in  all  to  so  large  a  heart !  " 

"  Ambition !  No,  thou  mistakest — Montagu  is  am- 
bitious, I  but  proud.  Montagu  ever  seeks  to  be  higher 
than  he  is,  I  but  assert  the  right  to  be  what  I  am  and 
have  been ;  and  my  pride,  sweet  wife,  is  a  part  of  my 
love  for  thee.  It  is  thy  title,  Heiress  of  Warwick,  and 
not  my  father's,  that  I  bear;  thy  badge,  and  not  the 
Nevile's,  which  I  have  made  the  symbol  of  my  power. 
Shame,  indeed,  on  my  knighthood,  if  the  fairest  dame 
in  England  could  not  justify  my  pride!  Ah!  belle 
amie,  why  have  we  not  a  son  ?  " 

"  Peradventure,  fair  lord,"  said  the  countess,  with  an 
arch  yet  half-melancholy  smile,  "  because  that  pride  or 
ambition,  name  it  as  thou  wilt,  which  thou  excusest  so 
gallantly,  would  become  too  insatiate  and  limitless,  if 
thou  sawest  a  male  heir  to  thy  greatness  ;  and  God,  per- 
haps, warns  thee  that,  spread  and  increase  as  thou 
wilt, — yea,  until  half  our  native  country  becometh  as 
the  manor  of  one  man — all  must  pass  from  the  Beau- 
champ  and  the  Nevile  into  new  houses ;  thy  glory,  in- 
deed, an  eternal  heirloom,  but  only  to  thy  land — thy 
lordships  and  thy  wealth  melting  into  the  dowry  of  a 
daughter." 

"  At  least,  no  king  hath  daughters  so  dowried,"  an- 
swered Warwick ;  "  and  though  I  disdain  for  myself 
the  hard  vassalage  of  a  throne,  yet,  if  the  channel  of  our 
blood  must  pass  into  other  streams — into  nothing 
meaner  than  the  veins  of  loyalty  should  it  merge."  He 
paused  a  moment,  and  added  with  a  sigh — "  Would  that 
Clarence  were  more  worthy  Isabel !  " 

"  Nay,"  said  the  countess,  gently,  "  he  loveth  her  as 
she  merits.  He  is  comely,  brave,  gracious,  and  learned. * 
VOL.  I. — 23 


354  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  A  pest  upon  that  learning — it  sicklies  and 
womanises  men's  minds ! "  exclaimed  Warwick, 
bluntly.  "  Perhaps  it  is  his  learning  that  I  am  to  thank 
for  George  of  Clarence's  fears,  and  doubts,  and  calcu- 
lations and  scruples.  His  brother  forbids  his  marriage 
with  any  English  donzell,  for  Edward  dares  not  spe- 
cialise what  alone  he  dreads.  His  letters  burn  with  love, 
and  his  actions  freeze  with  doubts.  It  was  not  thus  I 
loved  thee,  sweetheart.  By  all  the  saints  in  the  calen- 
dar, had  Henry  V.  or  the  Lion  Richard  started  from 
the  tomb  to  forbid  me  thy  hand,  it  would  but  have  made 
me  a  hotter  lover !  Howbeit  Clarence  shall  decide  ere 
the  moon  wanes,  and  but  for  Isabel's  tears  and  thy  en- 
treaties, my  father's  grandchild  should  not  have  waited 
thus  long  the  coming  of  so  hesitating  a  wooer.  But  lo, 
our  darlings !  Anne  hath  thine  eyes,  tn'amie;  and  she 
groweth  more  into  my  heart  every  day,  since  daily  she 
more  favours  thee." 

While  he  thus  spoke,  the  fair  sisters  came  lightly  and 
gaily  up  the  terrace :  the  arm  of  the  statelier  Isabel  was 
twined  round  Anne's  slender  waist ;  and  as  they  came 
forward  in  that  gentle  link,  with  their  lithesome  and 
bounding  step,  a  happier  blending  of  contrasted  beauty 
was  never  seen.  The  months  that  had  passed  since  the 
sisters  were  presented  first  to  the  reader  had  little 
changed  the  superb  and  radiant  loveliness  of  Isabel, 
but  had  added  surprisingly  to  the  attractions  of  Anne. 
Her  form  was  more  rounded,  her  bloom  more  ripened, 
and  though  something  of  timidity  and  bashfulness  still 
lingered  about  the  grace  of  her  movements  and  the 
glance  of  her  dove-like  eye,  the  more  earnest  thoughts 
of  the  awakening  woman  gave  sweet  intelligence  to 
her  countenance,  and  that  divinest  of  all  attractions — 
the  touching  and  conscious  modesty  to  the  shy  but  ten- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  355 

der  smile — and  the  blush  that  so  came  and  went,  so 
went  and  came,  that  it  stirred  the  heart  with  a  sort  of 
delighted  pity  for  one  so  evidently  susceptible  to  every 
emotion  of  pleasure  and  of  pain.  Life  seemed  too  rough 
a  thing  for  so  soft  a  nature,  and  gazing  on  her,  one 
sighed  to  guess  her  future. 

"  And  what  brings  ye  hither,  young  truants  ?  "  said 
the  earl,  as  Anne,  leaving  her  sister,  clung  lovingly  to 
his  side  (for  it  was  ever  her  habit  to  cling  to  some  one), 
while  Isabel  kissed  her  mother's  hand,  and  then  stood 
before  her  parents,  colouring  deeply,  and  with  down- 
cast eyes.  "  What  brings  ye  hither,  whom  I  left  so 
lately  deep  engaged  in  the  loom,  upon  the  helmet  of 
Goliath,  with  my  burgonot  before  you  as  a  sample? 
Wife,  you  are  to  blame — our  room  of  state  will  be 
arrasless  for  the  next  three  generations,  if  these  rosy 
fingers  are  suffered  thus  to  play  the  idlers." 

"  My  father,"  whispered  Anne,  "  guests  are  on  their 
way  hither, — a  noble  cavalcade ;  you  note  them  not  from 
this  part  of  the  battlements,  but  from  our  turret  it  was 
fair  to  see  how  their  plumes  and  banners  shone  in  the 
setting  sun." 

"  Guests !  "  echoed  the  earl ;  "  well,  is  that  so  rare 
an  honour  that  your  hearts  should  beat  like  village  girls 
at  a  holiday  ?  Ah,  Isabel !  look  at  her  blushes.  Is  it 
George  of  Clarence  at  last  ?  Is  it  ?  " 

"We  see  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's  cognisance,"  whis- 
pered Anne,  "  and  our  own  Nevile  Bull.  Perchance 
our  cousin  George,  also,  may " 

Here  she  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  the 
warder's  horn,  followed  a  moment  after  by  the  roar  of 
one  of  the  bombards  on  the  keep. 

"  At  least,"  said  Warwick,  his  face  lighting  up,  "  that 
signal  announces  the  coming  of  king's  blood.  We 


356  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

must  honour  it, — for  it  is  our  own.    We  will  go  forth 
and  meet  our  guests — your  hand,  countess." 

And  gravely  and  silently,  and  in  deep  but  no  longer 
gloomy  thought,  Warwick  descended  from  the  terrace, 
followed  by  the  fair  sisters;  and  who  that  could  have 
looked  upon  that  princely  pair,  and  those  lovely  and 
radiant  children,  could  have  foreseen,  that  in  that  hour, 
Fate,  in  tempting  the  earl  once  more  to  action,  was  busy 
on  their  doom ! 


CHAPTER  II 

COUNCILS   AND   MUSINGS 

The  lamp  shone  through  the  lattice  of  Warwick's 
chamber  at  the  unwonted  hour  of  midnight,  and  the 
earl  was  still  in  deep  commune  with  his  guests.  The 
archbishop,  whom  Edward,  alarmed  by  the  state  of  the 
country,  and  the  disaffection  of  his  barons,  had  re- 
luctantly commissioned  to  mediate  with  Warwick,  was, 
as  we  have  before  said,  one  of  those  men  peculiar  to 
the  early  Church.  There  was  nothing  more  in  the  title 
of  Archbishop  of  York  than  in  that  of  the  Bishop  of 
Osnaburg  (borne  by  the  royal  son  of  George  III.*), 
to  prevent  him  who  enjoyed  it  from  leading  armies, 
guiding  states,  or  indulging  pleasure.  But  beneath  the 
coxcombry  of  George  Nevile,  which  was  what  he 
shared  most  in  common  with  the  courtiers  of  the  laity, 
there  lurked  a  true  ecclesiastic's  mind.  He  would  have 
made,  in  later  times,  an  admirable  Jesuit,  and  no  doubt, 
in  his  own  time,  a  very  brilliant  pope.  His  objects  in 
his  present  mission  were  clear  and  perspicuous;  any 
breach  between  Warwick  and  the  king  must  necessarily 
*  The  late  Duke  of  York. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  357 

weaken  his  own  position,  and  the  power  of  his  house 
was  essential  to  all  his  views.  The  object  of  Glouces- 
ter in  his  intercession  was  less  defined,  but  not  less  per- 
sonal :  in  smoothing  the  way  to  his  brother's  marriage 
with  Isabel,  he  removed  all  apparent  obstacle  to  his 
own  with  Anne.  And  it  is  probable  that  Richard,  who, 
whatever  his  crimes,  was  far  from  inaccessible  to  affec- 
tion, might  have  really  loved  his  early  playmate,  even 
while  his  ambition  calculated  the  wealth  of  the  baronies 
that  would  swell  the  dower  of  the  heiress,  and  gild  the 
barren  coronet  of  his  duchy.* 

"  God's  truth !  "  said  Warwick,  as  he  lifted  his  eyes 
from  the  scroll  in  the  king's  writing,  "  ye  know  well, 
princely  cousin,  and  thou,  my  brother,  ye  know  well 
how  dearly  I  have  loved  King  Edward ;  and  the 
mother's  milk  overflows  my  heart,  when  I  read  these 
gentle  and  tender  words,  which  he  deigns  to  bestow 
upon  his  servant.  My  blood  is  hasty  and  over-hot,  but 
a  kind  thought  from  those  I  love  puts  out  much  fire. 
Sith  he  thus  beseeches  me  to  return  to  his  councils,  I 
will  not  be  sullen  enough  to  hold  back ;  but,  oh,  Prince 
Richard!  is  it  indeed  a  matter  past  all  consideration, 
that  your  sister,  the  Lady  Margaret,  must  wed  with  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy  ?  " 

"  Warwick,"  replied  the  prince,  "  thou  mayst  know 
that  I  never  looked  with  favour  on  that  alliance ;  that 
when  Clarence  bore  the  Bastard's  helmet,  I  withheld 
my  countenance  from  the  Bastard's  presence.  I  in- 
curred Edward's  anger  by  refusing  to  attend  his  court 
while  the  Count  de  la  Roche  was  his  guest.  And  there- 
fore you  may  trust  me  when  I  say  now  that  Edward, 

*  Majerus,  the  Flemish  chronicler,  quoted  by  Bucke  (Life 
of  Richard  III.),  mentions  the  early  attachment  of  Richard 
to  Anne.  They  were  much  together,  as  children,  at  Middle- 
ham. 


358  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

after  promises,  however  rash,  most  solemn  and  bind- 
ing, is  dishonoured  for  ever  if  he  break  off  the  con- 
tract. New  circumstances,  too,  have  arisen,  to  make 
what  were  dishonour,  danger  also.  By  the  death  of  his 
father,  Charolois  has  succeeded  to  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy's diadem.  Thou  knowest  his  warlike  temper,: 
and  though  in  a  contest  popular  in  England  we  need 
fear  no  foe,  yet  thou  knowest  also  that  no  subsidies 
could  be  raised  for  strife  with  our  most  profitable  com- 
mercial ally.  Wherefore  we  earnestly  implore  thee 
magnanimously  to  forgive  the  past,  accept  Edward's 
assurance  of  repentance,  and  be  thy  thought — as  it  has 
been  ever — the  weal  of  our  common  country." 

"  I  may  add,  also,"  said  the  archbishop,  observing 
how  much  Warwick  was  touched  and  softened, — "  that 
in  returning  to  the  helm  of  state,  our  gracious  king 
permits  me  to  say,  that,  save  only  in  the  alliance  with 
Burgundy,  which  toucheth  his  plighted  word,  you  have 
full  liberty  to  name  conditions,  and  to  ask  whatever 
grace  or  power  a  monarch  can  bestow." 

"  I  name  none  but  my  prince's  confidence,"  said 
Warwick,  generously,  "  in  that,  all  else  is  given,  and 
in  return  for  that,  I  will  make  the  greatest  sacrifice  that 
my  nature  knoweth,  or  can  conceive — I  will  mortify 
my  familiar  demon — I  will  subdue  my  PRIDE.  If  Ed- 
ward can  convince  me  that  it  is  for  the  good  of  Eng- 
land that  his  sister  should  wed  with  mine  ancient  and 
bitter  foe,  I  will  myself  do  honour  to  his  choice.  But 
of  this  hereafter.  Enough,  now  that  I  forget  past 
wrongs  in  present  favour ;  and  that  for  peace  or  war,  I 
return  to  the  side  of  that  man  whom  I  loved  as  my 
son,  before  I  served  him  as  my  king." 

Neither  Richard  nor  the  archbishop  was  prepared 
for  a  conciliation  so  facile,  for  neither  quite  understood 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  359 

that  peculiar  magnanimity  which  often  belongs  to  a 
vehement  and  hasty  temper,  and  which  is  as  eager  to 
forgive  as  prompt  to  take  offence — which,  ever  in  ex- 
tremes, is  not  contented  with  anything  short  of  fiery 
aggression  or  trustful  generosity — and  where  it  once 
passes  over  an  offence,  seeks  to  oblige  the  offender.  So, 
when,  after  some  further  conversation  on  the  state  of 
the  country,  the  earl  lighted  Gloucester  to  his  chamber, 
the  young  prince  said  to  himself,  musingly : — 

"  Does  ambition  besot  and  blind  men  ? — or  can  War- 
wick think  that  Edward  can  ever  view  him  but  as  one 
to  be  destroyed  when  the  hour  is  ripe  ?  " 

Catesby,  who  was  the  duke's  chamberlain,  was  in  at- 
tendance as  the  prince  unrobed. — "  A  noble  castle  this," 
said  the  duke,  "  and  one  in  the  midst  of  a  warlike  popu- 
lation— our  own  countrymen  of  York." 

"  It  would  be  no  mean  addition  to  the  dowry  of  the 
Lady  Isabel,"  said  Catesby,  with  his  bland,  false  smile. 

"  Methinks  rather  that  the  lordships  of  Salisbury 
(and  this  is  the  chief)  pass  to  the  Lady  Anne,"  said 
Richard,  musingly.  "  No,  Edward  were  imprudent 
to  suffer  this  stronghold  to  fall  to  the  next  heir  to  his 
throne.  Marked  you  the  Lady  Anne — her  beauty  is 
most  excellent." 

"  Truly,  your  highness,"  answered  Catesby,  unsus- 
piciously, "  the  Lady  Isabel  seems  to  me  the  taller  and 
the  statelier." 

"  When  man's  merit  and  woman's  beauty  are  meas- 
ured by  the  ell,  Catesby,  Anne  will  certainly  be  less 
fair  than  Isabel,  and  Richard  a  dolt  compared  to  Clar- 
ence. Open  the  casement — my  dressing-robe — good 
'night  to  you !  " 


36o  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

CHAPTER  III 

THE   SISTERS 

The  next  morning,  at  an  hour  when  modern  beauty 
falls  into  its  first  sickly  sleep,  Isabel  and  Anne  con- 
versed on  the  same  terrace,  and  near  the  same  spot 
which  had  witnessed  their  father's  meditations  the 
day  before.  They  were  seated  on  a  rude  bench  in  an 
angle  of  the  wall,  flanked  by  a  low,  heavy  bastion.  And 
from  the  parapet  their  gaze  might  have  wandered  over 
a  goodly  sight,  for  on  a  broad  space,  covered  with  sand 
and  sawdust,  within  the  vast  limits  of  the  castle  range, 
the  numerous  knights,  and  youths  who  sought  appren- 
ticeship in  arms  and  gallantry  under  the  earl,  were  en- 
gaged in  those  martial  sports  which,  falling  elsewhere 
into  disuse,  the  Last  of  the  Barons  kinglily  maintained. 
There,  boys  of  fourteen,  on  their  small  horses,  ran 
against  each  other  with  blunted  lances.  There,  those 
of  more  advanced  adolescence,  each  following  the  other 
in  a  circle,  rode  at  the  ring;  sometimes  (at  the  word  of 
command  from  an  old  knight  who  had  fought  at  Agin- 
court,  and  was  the  preceptor  in  these  valiant  studies) 
leaping  from  their  horses  at  full  speed,  and  again 
vaulting  into  the  saddle.  A  few  grim  old  warriors 
sat  by  to  censure  or  applaud.  Most  skilled  among  the 
younger,  was  the  son  of  the  Lord  Montagu;  among 
the  maturer,  the  name  of  Marmaduke  Nevile  was  the 
most  often  shouted.  If  the  eye  turned  to  the  left, 
through  the  barbican  might  be  seen  flocks  of  beeves  en- 
tering to  supply  the  mighty  larder ;  and  at  a  smaller  pos- 
tern, a  dark  crowd  of  mendicant  friars,  and  the  more 
destitute  poor,  waited  for  the  daily  crumbs  from  the  rich 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  361 

man's  table.  What  need  of  a  poor-law  then !  the  baron 
and  the  abbot  made  the  parish !  But  not  on  these  evi- 
dences of  wealth  and  state  turned  the  eyes — so  familiar 
to  them,  that  they  woke  no  vanity,  and  roused  no  pride. 

With  downcast  looks  and  a  pouting  lip,  Isabel  listened 
to  the  silver  voice  of  Anne. 

"  Dear  sister,  be  just  to  Clarence.  He  cannot  openly 
defy  his  king  and  brother.  Believe  that  he  would  have 
accompanied  our  uncle  and  cousin  had  he  not  deemed 
that  their  mediation  would  be  more  welcome,  at  least 
to  King  Edward,  without  his  presence." 

"  But  not  a  letter — not  a  line !  " 

"  Yet  when  I  think  of  it,  Isabel,  are  we  sure  that  he 
even  knew  of  the  visit  of  the  archbishop  and  his 
brother?" 

"  How  could  he  fail  to  know  ?  " 

"  The  Duke  of  Gloucester,  last  evening,  told  me  that 
the  king  had  sent  him  southward." 

"  Was  it  about  Clarence  that  the  duke  whispered  to 
thee  so  softly  by  the  oriel  window  ?  " 

"  Surely,  yes !  "  said  Anne,  simply.  "  Was  not  Rich- 
ard as  a  brother  to  us  when  we  played  as  children  on 
yon  greensward  ?  " 

"  Never  as  a  brother  to  me — never  was  Richard  of 
Gloucester  one  whom  I  could  think  of  without  fear, 
and  even  loathing,"  answered  Isabel,  quickly. 

It  was  at  this  turn  in  the  conversation  that  the  noise- 
less step  of  Richard  himself  neared  the  spot,  and  hear- 
ing his  own  name  thus  discourteously  treated,  he 
paused,  screened  from  their  eyes  by  the  bastion,  in  the 
angle. 

"  Nay,  nay,  sister,"  said  Anne ;  "  what  is  there  in 
Richard  that  misbeseems  his  princely  birth  ?  " 

"  I  know  not,  but  there  is  no  youth  in  his  eye  and  in 


362  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

his  heart.  Even  as  a  child  he  had  the  hard  will  and 
the  cold  craft  of  grey  hairs.  Pray  St.  Mary  you  give 
me  not  Gloucester  for  a  brother !  " 

Anne  sighed  and  smiled — "  Ah  no,"  she  said," after  a 
short  pause — "  When  thou  art  Princess  of  Clarence, 
may  I " 

"  May  thou,  what  ?  " 

"  Pray  for  thee  and  thine  in  the  house  of  God  !  Ah ! 
thou  knowest  not,  sweet  Isabel,  how  often  at  morn  and 
eve  mine  eyes  and  heart  turn  to  the  spires  of  yonder 
convent !  "  She  rose  as  she  said  this,  her  lip  quivered, 
and  she  moved  on  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  in 
which  Richard  stood,  still  unseen,  and  no  longer  within 
his  hearing.  Isabel  rose  also,  and  hastening  after  her, 
threw  her  arms  round  Anne's  neck,  and  kissed  away 
the  tears  that  stood  in  those  meek  eyes. 

"  My  sister — my  Anne !  Ah !  trust  in  me,  thou  hast 
some  secret,  I  know  it  well — I  have  long  seen  it.  Is  it 
possible  that  thou  canst  have  placed  thy  heart,  thy  pure 
love — thou  blushest !  Ah !  Anne !  Anne !  thou  canst 
not  have  loved  beneath  thee." 

"  Nay,"  said  Anne,  with  a  spark  of  her  ancestral  fire 
lighting  her  meek  eyes  through  its  tears,  "  not  beneath 
me,  but  above.  What  do  I  say !  Isabel,  ask  me  no 
more.  Enough  that  it  is  a  folly — a  dream — and  that 
I  could  smile  with  pity  at  myself,  to  think  from  what 
light  causes  love  and  grief  can  spring." 

"  Above  thee !  "  repeated  Isabel,  in  amaze,  "  and 
who  in  England  is  above  the  daughter  of  Earl  War- 
wick? Not  Richard  of  Gloucester?  if  so,  pardon  my 
foolish  tongue." 

"  No,  not  Richard — though  I  feel  kindly  towards 
him,  and  his  sweet  voice  soothes  me  when  I  listen — 
not  Richard.  Ask  no  more." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  363 

"  Oh,  Anne — speak — speak ! — we  are  not  both  so 
wretched.  Thou  lovest  not  Clarence?  It  is — it  must 
be!" 

"  Canst  thou  think  me  so  false  and  treacherous — a 
heart  pledged  to  thee  ?  Clarence  !  Oh  no !  " 

"  But  who  then — who  then?  "  said  Isabel,  still  sus- 
piciously ;  "  nay,  if  thou  wilt  not  speak,  blame  thyself  if  • 
I  must  still  wrong  thee." 

Thus  appealed  to,  and  wounded  to  the  quick  by 
Isabel's  tone  and  eye,  Anne  at  last,  with  a  strong  ef- 
fort, suppressed  her  tears,  and,  taking  her  sister's 
hand,  said  in  a  voice  of  touching  solemnity — "  Prom- 
ise, then,  that  the  secret  shall  be  ever  holy ;  and,  since 
I  know  that  it  will  move  thine  anger,  perhaps  thy  scorn 
— strive  to  forget  what  I  will  confess  to  thee." 

Isabel  for  answer  pressed  her  lips  on  the  hand  she 
held ;  and  the  sisters,  turning  under  the  shadow  of  a 
long  row  of  venerable  oaks,  placed  themselves  on  a 
little  mound,  fragrant  with  the  violets  of  spring.  A 
different  part  of  the  landscape  beyond  was  now  brought 
in  view ; — calmly  slept  in  the  valley  the  roofs  of  the 
subject  town  of  Middleham — calmly  flowed  through 
the  pastures  the  noiseless  waves  of  Ure.  Leaning  on 
Isabel's  bosom,  Anne  thus  spake,  "  Call  to  mind,  sweet 
sister,  that  short  breathing-time  in  the  horrors  of  the 
Civil  War,  when  a  brief  peace  was  made  between  our 
father  and  Queen  Margaret.  We  were  left  in  the  pal- 
ace— mere  children  that  we  were — to  play  with  the 
young  prince,  and  the  children  in  Margaret's  train." 

"  I  remember." 

"  And  I  was  unwell,  and  timid,  and  kept  aloof  from 
the  sports  with  a  girl  of  my  own  years,  whom  I  think 
— see  how  faithful  my  memory ! — they  called  Sibyll ; 
and  Prince  Edward,  Henry's  son,  stealing  from  the 


364  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

rest,  sought  me  out ;  and  we  sat  together,  or  walked 
together  alone,  apart  from  all,  that  day  and  the  few 
days  we  were  his  mother's  guests.  Oh!  if  you  could 
have  seen  him  and  heard  him  then — so  beautiful,  so 
gentle,  so  wise  beyond  his  years,  and  yet  so  sweetly 
sad ;  and  when  we  parted,  he  bade  me  ever  love  him, 
and  placed  his  ring  on  my  finger,  and  wept, — as  we 
kissed  each  other,  as  children  will." 

"  Children ! — ye  were  infants  !  "  exclaimed  Isabel, 
whose  wonder  seemed  increased  by  this  simple  tale. 

"  Infant  though  I  was,  I  felt  as  if  my  heart  would 
break  when  I  left  him ;  and  then  the  wars  ensued ;  and 
do  you  not  remember  how  ill  I  was,  and  like  to  die, 
when  our  house  triumphed,  and  the  prince  and  heir 
of  Lancaster  was  driven  into  friendless  exile?  From 
that  hour  my  fate  was  fixed.  Smile  if  you  please  at 
such  infant  folly,  but  children  often  feel  more  deeply 
than  later  years  can  weet  of." 

"  My  sister,  this  is  indeed  a  wilful  invention  of  sor- 
row for  thine  own  scourge.  Why,  ere  this,  believe  me, 
the  boy-prince  hath  forgotten  thy  very  name." 

"  Not  so,  Isabel,"  said  Anne,  colouring,  and  quickly, 
"  and  perchance,  did  all  rest  here,  I  might  have  out- 
grown my  weakness.  But  last  year,  when  we  were  at 
Rouen  with  my  father " 

"Well?" 

"  One  evening  on  entering  my  chamber,  I  found  a 
packet — how  left  I  know  not,  but  the  French  king  and 
his  suite,  thou  rememberest,  made  our  house  almost 
their  home — and  in  this  packet  was  a  picture,  and  on 
its  back  these  words,  '  Forget  not  the  exile,  who  re- 
members thee! " 

"  And  that  picture  was  Prince  Edward's  ?  " 

Anne  blushed,  and  her  bosom  heaved  beneath  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  365 

slender  and  high-laced  gorget.  After  a  pause,  looking 
round  her,  she  drew  forth  a  small  miniature,  which 
lay  on  the  heart  that  beat  thus  sadly,  and  placed  it  in 
her  sister's  hands. 

"  You  see  I  deceive  you  not,  Isabel.  And  is  not  this 
a  fair  excuse  for " 

She  stopped  short,  her  modest  nature  shrinking 
from  comment  upon  the  mere  beauty  that  might  have 
won  the  heart. 

And  fair  indeed  was  the  face  upon  which  Isabel 
gazed  admiringly,  in  spite  of  the  stiff  and  rude  art  of 
the  limner;  full  of  the  fire  and  energy  which  charac- 
terised the  countenance  of  the  mother,  but  with  a  tinge 
of  the  same  profound  and  inexpressible  melancholy 
that  gave  its  charm  to  the  pensive  features  of  Henry 
VI. — a  face,  indeed,  to  fascinate  a  young  eye,  even  if 
not  associated  with  such  remembrances  of  romance  and 
pity. 

Without  saying  a  word,  Isabel  gave  back  the  picture, 
but  she  pressed  the  hand  that  took  it,  and  Anne  was 
contented  to  interpret  the  silence  into  sympathy. 

"  And  now  you  know  why  I  have  so  often  incurred 
your  anger — by  compassion  for  the  adherents  of  Lan- 
caster; and  for  this,  also,  Richard  of  Gloucester  hath 
been  endeared  to  me ; — for  fierce  and  stern  as  he  may 
be  called,  he  hath  ever  been  gentle  in  his  mediation  for 
that  unhappy  House." 

"  Because  it  is  his  policy  to  be  well  with  all  parties. 
My  poor  Anne,  I  cannot  bid  you  hope ;  and  yet,  should 
1  ever  wed  with  Clarence,  it  may  be  possible — that — 
that — but  you  in  turn  will  chide  me  for  ambition." 

"How?" 

"  Clarence  is  heir  to  the  throne  of  England,  for  King 
Edward  has  no  male  children ;  and  the  hour  may  ar- 


366  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

rive  when  the  son  of  Henry  of  Windsor  may  return  to 
his  native  land,  not  as  sovereign,  but  as  Duke  of  Lan- 
caster, and  thy  hand  may  reconcile  him  to  the  loss  of  a 
crown." 

"  Would  love  reconcile  thee  to  such  a  loss,  proud 
Isabel  ? "  said  Anne,  shaking  her  head  and  smiling 
mournfully. 

"  No,"  answered  Isabel,  emphatically. 

"  And  are  men  less  haught  than  we  ?  "  said  Anne. 
"  Ah !  I  know  not  if  I  could  love  him  so  well  could  he 
resign  his  rights,  or  even  could  he  regain  them.  It  is 
his  position  that  gives  him  a  holiness  in  my  eyes.  And 
this  love,  that  must  be  hopeless,  is  half  pity  and  half 
respect." 

At  this  moment  a  loud  shout  arose  from  the  youths 
in  the  yard,  or  sporting-ground,  below,  and  the  sisters, 
startled,  and  looking  up,  saw  that  the  sound  was  occa- 
sioned by  the  sight  of  the  young  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
who  was  standing  on  the  parapet  near  the  bench 
the  demoiselles  had  quitted,  and  who  acknowledged 
the  greeting  by  a  wave  of  his  plumed  cap  and  a 
lowly  bend  of  his  head ;  at  the  same  time  the  figures  of 
Warwick  and  the  archbishop,  seemingly  in  earnest  con- 
versation, appeared  at  the  end  of  the  terrace.  The  sis- 
ters rose  hastily,  and  would  have  stolen  away,  but  the 
archbishop  caught  a  glimpse  of  their  robes,  and  called 
aloud  to  them.  The  reverent  obedience,  at  that  day, 
of  youth  to  relations,  left  the  sisters  no  option  but  to 
advance  towards  their  uncle,  which  they  did  with  de- 
mure reluctance. 

"  Fair  brother,"  said  the  archbishop,  "  I  would  that 
Gloucester  were  to  have  my  stately  niece  instead  of  the 
gaudy  Clarence." 

"Wherefore?" 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  367 

"  Because  he  can  protect  those  he  loves,  and  Clar- 
ence will  ever  need  a  protector." 

"  I  like  George  not  the  less  for  that,"  said  Warwick, 
"  for  I  would  not  have  my  son-in-law  my  master." 

"  Master !  "  echoed  the  archbishop,  laughing ;  "  the 
Soldan  of  Babylon  himself,  were  he  your  son-in-law, 
would  find  Lord  Warwick  a  tolerably  stubborn  ser- 
vant!" 

"  And  yet,"  said  Warwick,  also  laughing,  but  with 
a  franker  tone,  "  beshrew  me,  but  much  as  I  approve 
young  Gloucester,  and  deem  him  the  hope  of  the  house 
of  York,  I  never  feel  sure,  when  we  are  of  the  same 
mind,  whether  I  agree  with  him,  or  whether  he  leadeth 
me.  Ah,  George !  Isabel  should  have  wedded  the  king, 
and  then  Edward  and  I  would  have  had  a  sweet  media- 
tor in  all  our  quarrels.  But  not  so  hath  it  been  de- 
creed." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Note  how  Gloucester  steals  to  the  side  of  Anne. 
Thou  mayst  have  him  for  a  son-in-law,  though  no  rival 
to  Clarence.  Montagu  hath  hinted  that  the  duke  so 
aspires." 

"  He  has  his  father's  face — well,"  said  the  earl, 
softly.  "  But  yet,"  he  added,  in  an  altered  and  re- 
flective tone,  "  the  boy  is  to  me  a  riddle.  That  he  will 
be  bold  in  battle  and  wise  in  council  I  foresee ;  but 
would  he  had  more  of  a  young  man's  honest  follies! 
There  is  a  medium  between  Edward's  wantonness  and 
Richard's  sanctimony;  and  he  who  in  the  heyday  of 
youth's  blood  scowls  alike  upon  sparkling  wine  and 
smiling  woman,  may  hide  in  his  heart  darker  and  more 
sinful  fancies.  But  fie  on  me!  I  will  not  wrongfully 
mistrust  his  father's  son.  Thou  spokest  of  Montagu ; 
he  seems  to  have  been  mighty  cold  to  his  brother's 


368  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

wrongs — ever  at  the  court — ever  sleek  with  Villein  and 
Woodville." 

"  But  the  better  to  watch  thy  interests ; — I  so  coun- 
selled him." 

"  A  priest's  counsel !  Hate  frankly  or  love  freely  is 
a  knight's  and  soldier's  motto.  A  murrain  on  all 
double-dealing !  " 

The  archbishop  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  applied 
to  his  nostrils  a  small  pouncet-box  of  dainty  essences. 

"  Come  hither,  my  haughty  Isabel,"  said  the  prelate, 
as  the  demoiselles  now  drew  near.  He  placed  his 
niece's  arm  within  his  own,  and  took  her  aside  to  talk 
of  Clarence ;  Richard  remained  with  Anne,  and  the 
young  cousins  were  joined  by  Warwick.  The  earl 
noted  in  silence  the  soft  address  of  the  eloquent  prince, 
and  his  evident  desire  to  please  Anne.  And  strange  as 
it  may  seem,  although  he  hitherto  regarded  Richard 
with  admiration  and  affection,  and  although  his  pride 
for  both  daughters  coveted  alliances  not  less  than  royal, 
yet,  in  contemplating  Gloucester  for  the  first  time  as  a 
probable  suitor  to  his  daughter  (and  his  favourite 
daughter),  the  anxiety  of  a  father  sharpened  his  pene- 
tration, and  placed  the  character  of  Richard  before  him 
in  a  different  point  from  that  in  which  he  had  hitherto 
looked  only  on  the  fearless  heart  and  accomplished  wit 
of  his  royal  godson. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  369 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   DESTRIER 

It  was  three  days  afterwards  that  the  earl,  as,  ac- 
cording to  custom,  Anne  knelt  to  him  for  his  morning 
blessing  in  the  oratory  where  the  Christian  baron  at 
matins  and  vespers  offered  up  his  simple  worship,  drew 
her  forth  into  the  air,  and  said  abruptly — 

"  Wouldst  thou  be  happy  if  Richard  of  Gloucester 
were  thy  betrothed !  " 

Anne  started,  and  with  more  vivacity  than  usually 
belonged  to  her,  exclaimed,  "  Oh  no,  my  father !  " 

"  This  is  no  maiden's  silly  coyness,  Anne  ?  It  is  a 
plain  yea  or  nay  that  I  ask  from  thee !  " 

"  Nay,  then,"  answered  Anne,  encouraged  by  her 
father's  tone — "  nay,  if  it  so  please  you." 

"  It  doth  please  me,"  said  the  earl,  shortly ;  and 
after  a  pause,  he  added,  "Yes,  I  am  well  pleased.  Rich- 
ard gives  promise  of  an  illustrious  manhood;  but, 
Anne,  thou  growest  so  like  thy  mother,  that  whenever 
my  pride  seeks  to  see  thee  great,  my  heart  steps  in,  and 
only  prays  that  it  may  see  thee  happy! — so  much  so, 
that  I  would  not  have  given  thee  to  Clarence,  whom  it 
likes  me  well  to  view  as  Isabel's  betrothed,  for,  to  her, 
greatness  and  bliss  are  one !  and  she  is  of  firm  nature, 
and  can  rule  in  her  own  house ;  but  thou, — where  out  of 
romaunt  can  I  find  a  lord  loving  enough  for  thee,  soft 
child?" 

Inexpressibly  affected,  Anne  threw  herself  on  her 
father's  breast  and  wept.    He  caressed  and  soothed  her 
fondly ;  and,  before  her  emotion  was  well  over,  Glou- 
cester and  Isabel  joined  them. 
VOL.  I.— 24 


370  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  My  fair  cousin,"  said  the  duke,  "  hath  promised 
to  show  me  thy  renowned  steed,  Saladin  ;  and  since,  on 
quitting  thy  halls,  I  go  to  my  apprenticeship  in  war  on 
the  turbulent  Scottish  frontier,  I  would  fain  ask  thee 
for  a  destrier  of  the  same  race  as  that  which  bears  the 
thunderbolt  of  Warwick's  wrath  through  the  storm  of 
battle." 

"  A  steed  of  the  race  of  Saladin,"  answered  the  earl, 
leading  the  way  to  the  destrier's  stall,  apart  from  all 
other  horses,  and  rather  a  chamber  of  the  castle  than 
a  stable,  "  were  indeed  a  boon  worthy  a  soldier's  gift 
and  a  prince's  asking.  But,  alas !  Saladin,  like  myself, 
is  sonless — the  last  of  a  long  line." 

"  His  father,  methinks,  fell  for  us  on  the  field  of 
Touton.  Was  it  not  so?  I  have  heard  Edward  say, 
that  when  the  archers  gave  way,  and  the  victory  more 
than  wavered,  thou,  dismounting,  didst  slay  thy  steed 
with  thine  own  hand,  and  kissing  the  cross  of  thy 
sword,  swore,  on  that  spot,  to  stem  the  rush  of  the  foe, 
and  win  Edward's  crown  or  Warwick's  grave."  * 

"  It  was  so ;  and  the  shout  of  my  merry  men,  when 
they  saw  me  amongst  their  ranks  on  foot — all  flight 
forbid — was  Malech's  death-dirge !  It  is  a  wondrous 
race  that  of  Malech  and  his  son  Saladin  [continued 
the  earl,  smiling].  When  my  ancestor,  Aymer  de 
Nevile,  led  his  troops  to  the  Holy  Land,  under  Coeur 
de  Lion,  it  was  his  fate  to  capture  a  lady  beloved  by 
the  mighty  Saladin.  Need  I  say  that  Aymer,  under  a 
flag  of  truce,  escorted  her  ransomless,  her  veil  never 

* "  Every  Palm  Sunday,  the  day  on  which  the  battle  of 
Touton  was  fought,  a  rough  figure,  called  the  Red  Horse,  on 
the  side  of  a  hill  in  Warwickshire,  is  scoured  out.  This  is 
suggested  to  be  done  in  commemoration  of  the  horse  which 
the  Earl  of  Warwick  slew  on  that  day,  determined  to  vanquish 
or  die." — Roberts's  "  York  and  Lancaster,"  vol.  i.  p.  429. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  371 

raised  from  her  face,  to  the  tent  of  the  Saracen  king. 
Saladin,  too  gracious  for  an  infidel,  made  him  tarry 
awhile,  an  honoured  guest;  and  Aymer's  chivalry  be- 
came sorely  tried,  for  the  lady  he  had  delivered  loved 
and  tempted  him;  but  the  good  knight  prayed  and 
fasted,  and  defied  Satan  and  all  his  works.  The  lady 
(so  runs  the  legend)  grew  wroth  at  the  pious  cru- 
sader's disdainful  coldness ;  and  when  Aymer  returned 
to  his  comrades,  she  sent,  amidst  the  gifts  of  the 
soldan,  two  coal-black  steeds,  male  and  mare,  over 
which  some  foul  and  weird  spells  had  been  duly  mut- 
tered. Their  beauty,  speed,  art,  and  fierceness,  were 
a  marvel.  And  Aymer,  unsuspecting,  prized  the  boon, 
and  selected  the  male  destrier  for  his  war-horse.  Great 
were  the  feats,  in  many  a  field,  which  my  forefather 
wrought,  bestriding  his  black  charger.  But  one  fatal 
day,  on  which  the  sudden  war-trump  made  him  for- 
get his  morning  ave,  the  beast  had  power  over  the 
Christian,  and  bore  him,  against  bit  and  spur,  into  the 
thickest  of  the  foe.  He  did  all  a, knight  can  do  against 
many  (pardon  his  descendant's  vaunting, — so  runs  the 
tale) — and  the  Christians  for  a  while  beheld  him  soli- 
tary in  the  melee,  mowing  down  moon  and  turban. 
Then  the  crowd  closed,  and  the  good  knight  was  lost 
to  sight.  '  To  the  rescue ! '  cried  bold  King  Richard, 
and  on  rushed  the  crusaders  to  Aymer's  help;  when 
lo !  and  suddenly  the  ranks  severed,  and  the  black  steed 
emerged !  Aymer  still  on  the  selle,  but  motionless,  and 
his  helm  battered  and  plumeless — his  brand  broken — 
his  arm  drooping.  On  came  man  and  horse,  on — 
charging  on,  not  against  Infidel,  but  Christian.  On 
dashed  the  steed,  I  say,  with  fire  bursting  from  eyes  and 
nostrils,  and  the  pike  of  his  chaffron  bent  lance-like 
against  the  crusaders'  van.  The  foul  fiend  seemed  to 


372  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

be  in  the  destrier's  rage  and  puissance.  He  bore  right 
against  Richard's  standard-bearer,  and  down  went  the 
lion  and  the  cross.  He  charged  the  king  himself ;  and 
Richard,  unwilling  to  harm  his  own  dear  soldier 
Aymer,  halted  wondering,  till  the  pike  of  the  destrier 
pierced  his  own  charger  through  the  barding,  and  the 
king  lay  rolling  in  the  dust.  A  panic  seized  the  cross- 
men — they  fled — the  Saracens  pursued — and  still  with 
the  Saracens  came  the  black  steed  and  the  powerless 
rider.  At  last,  when  the  crusaders  reached  the  camp, 
and  the  flight  ceased,  there  halted,  also,  Aymer.  Not  a 
man  dared  near  him.  He  spoke  not — none  spoke  to 
him — till  a  holy  priest  and  palmer  approached  and 
sprinkled  the  good  knight  and  the  black  barb  with  holy 
water,  and  exorcised  both ;  the  spell  broke,  and  Aymer 
dropped  to  the  earth.  They  unbraced  his  helm — he 
was  cold  and  stark.  The  fierce  steed  had  but  borne  a 
dead  man." 

"  Holy  Paul !  "  cried  Gloucester,  with  seeming  sanc- 
timony, though  a  covert  sneer  played  round  the  firm 
beauty  of  his  pale  lips — "  a  notable  tale,  and  one  that 
proveth  much  of  Sacred  Truth,  now  lightly  heeded. 
But,  verily,  lord  earl,  I  should  have  little  loved  a  steed 
with  such  a  pedigree." 

"  Hear  the  rest,"  said  Isabel — "  King  Richard  or- 
dered the  destrier  to  be  slain  forthwith;  but  the  holy 
palmer  who  had  exorcised  it,  forbade  the  sacrifice. 
'  Mighty  shall  be  the  service,'  said  the  reverend  man, 
'  which  the  posterity  of  this  steed  shall  render  to  thy 
royal  race,  and  great  glory  shall  they  give  to  the  sons 
of  Nevile.  Let  the  war-horse,  now  duly  exorcised  from 
infidel  spells,  live  long  to  bear  a  Christian  warrior ! ' : 

"  And  so,"  quoth  the  earl,  taking  up  the  tale — "  so 
mare  and  horse  were  brought  by  Aymer's  squires  to  his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  373 

English  hall ;  and  Aymer's  son,  Sir  Reginald,  bore  the 
cross,  and  bestrode  the  fatal  steed,  without  fear  and 
without  scathe.  From  that  hour  the  house  of  Nevile 
rose  amain,  in  fame  and  in  puissance ;  and  the  legend 
further  saith,  that  the  same  palmer  encountered  Sir 
Reginald  at  Joppa,  bade  him  treasure  that  race  of  war- 
steeds  as  his  dearest  heritage,  for  with  that  race  his 
own  should  flourish  and  depart ;  and  the  sole  one  of  the 
Infidel's  spells  which  could  not  be  broken,  was  that 
which  united  the  gift — generation  after  generation, 
for  weal  or  for  woe,  for  honour  or  for  doom — to  the 
fate  of  Aymer  and  his  house.  '  And,'  added  the  palmer, 
4  as  with  woman's  love  and  woman's  craft  was  woven 
the  indissoluble  charm,  so  shall  woman,  whether  in 
craft  or  in  love,  ever  shape  the  fortunes  of  thee  and 
thine.' " 

"  As  yet,"  said  the  prince,  "  the  prophecy  is  fulfilled 
in  a  golden  sense,  for  nearly  all  thy  wide  baronies,  I 
trow,  have  come  to  thee  through  the  female  side.  A 
woman's  hand  brought  to  the  Nevile,  this  castle  and  its 
lands.*  From  a  woman  came  the  heritage  of  Mon- 
thermer  and  Montagu,  and  Salisbury's  famous  earl- 
dom ; — and  the  dower  of  thy  peerless  countess  was  the 
broad  domains  of  Beauchamp." 

"  And  a  woman's  craft,  young  prince,  wrought  my 
king's  displeasure!  But  enough  of  these  dissour's 
tales :  behold  the  son  of  poor  Malech,  whom,  forgetting 
all  such  legends,  I  slew  at  Teuton.  Ho,  Saladin — great 
thy  master ! " 

*  Middleham  Castle  was  built  by  Robert  Fitz  Ranulph, 
grandson  of  Ribald,  younger  brother  of  the  Earl  of  Bretagne 
and  Richmond,  nephew  to  the  Conqueror.  The  founder's  line 
failed  in  male  heirs,  and  the  heiress  married  Robert  Nevile, 
son  of  Lord  Raby.  Warwick's  father  held  the  earldom  of 
Salisbury  in  right  of  his  wife,  the  heiress  of  Thomas  de 
Montacute. 


374  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

They  stood  now  in  the  black  steed's  stall — an  ample 
and  high-vaulted  space,  for  halter  never  insulted  the 
fierce  destrier's  mighty  neck,  which  the  God  of  Battles 
had  clothed  in  thunder.  A  marble  cistern  contained  his 
limpid  drink,  and  in  a  gilded  manger  the  finest  wheaten 
bread  was  mingled  with  the  oats  of  Flanders.  On  en- 
tering, they  found  young  George,  Montagu's  son,  with 
two  or  three  boys,  playing  familiarly  with  the  noble 
animal,  who  had  all  the  affectionate  docility  inherited 
from  an  Arab  origin.  But  at  the  sound  of  Warwick's 
voice,  its  ears  rose,  its  mane  dressed  itself,  and  with  a 
short  neigh  it  came  to  his  feet,  and  kneeling  down,  in 
slow  and  stately  grace,  licked  its  master's  hand.  So 
perfect  and  so  matchless  a  steed  never  had  knight  be- 
strode! Its  hide  without  one  white  hair,  and  glossy 
as  the  sheenest  satin ;  a  lady's  tresses  were  scarcely 
finer  than  the  hair  of  its  noble  mane;  the  exceeding 
smallness  of  its  head,  its  broad  frontal,  the  remarkable 
and  almost  human  intelligence  of  its  eye,  seemed  act- 
ually to  elevate  its  conformation  above  that  of  its 
species.  Though  the  race  had  increased,  generation 
after  generation,  in  size  and  strength,  Prince  Richard 
still  marvelled  (when,  obedient  to  a  sign  from  War- 
wick, the  destrier  rose,  and  leant  its  head,  with  a  sort 
of  melancholy  and  quiet  tenderness,  upon  the  earl's 
shoulder)  that  a  horse  less  in  height  and  bulk  than  the 
ordinary  battle-steed,  could  bear  the  vast  weight  of  the 
giant  earl  in  his  ponderous  mail.  But  his  surprise 
ceased  when  the  earl  pointed  out  to  him  the  immense 
strength  of  the  steed's  ample  loins,  the  sinewy  clean- 
ness, the  iron  muscle,  of  the  stag-like  legs,  the  bull-like 
breadth  of  chest,  and  the  swelling  power  of  the  shining 
neck. 

"  And  after  all,"  added  the  earl,  "  both  in  man  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  375 

beast,  the  spirit  and  the  race,  not  the  stature  and  the 
bulk,  bring  the  prize.  Mort  Dieu,  Richard!  it  often 
shames  me  of  mine  own  thews  and  broad  breast — I  had 
been  more  vain  of  laurels  had  I  been  shorter  by  the 
head !  " 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  young  George  of  Montagu, 
with  a  page's  pertness,  "  I  had  rather  have  thine  inches 
than  Prince  Richard's,  and  thy  broad  breast  than  his 
grace's  short  neck." 

The  Duke  of  Gloucester  turned  as  if  a  snake  had 
stung  him.  He  gave  but  one  glance  to  the  speaker,  but 
that  glance  lived  for  ever  in  the  boy's  remembrance, 
and  the  young  Montagu  turned  pale  and  trembled,  even 
before  he  heard  the  earl's  stern  rebuke. 

"  Young  magpies  chatter,  boy — young  eagles  in  si- 
lence measure  the  space  between  the  eyrie  and  the 
sun !  " 

The  boy  hung;  his  head,  and  would  have  slunk  off, 
but  Richard  detailed  him  with  a  gentle  hand — "  My 
fair  young  cousin,"  said  he,  "  thy  words  gall  no  sore, 
and  if  ever  thou  and  I  charge  side  by  side  into  the  foe- 
man's  ranks,  thou  shalt  comprehend  what  thy  uncle  de- 
signed to  say, — how,  in  the  hour  of  strait  and  need,  we 
measure  men's  stature  not  by  the  body  but  the  soul !  " 

"  A  noble  answer,"  whispered  Anne,  with  something 
like  sisterly  admiration. 

"  Too  noble,"  said  the  more  ambitious  Isabel,  in  the 
same  voice,  "  for  Clarence's  future  wife  not  to  fear 
Clarence's  dauntless  brother." 

"  And  so,"  said  the  prince,  quitting  the  stall  with 
Warwick,  while  the  girls  still  lingered  behind,  "  so 
Saladin  hath  no  son !  Wherefore  ?  Can  you  mate  him 
with  no  bride  ?  " 

"  Faith,"  answered  the  earl,  "  the  females  of  his  race 


376  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

sleep  in  yonder  dell,  their  burial-place,  and  the  proud 
beast  disdains  all  meaner  loves.  Nay,  were  it  not  so, 
to  continue  the  breed,  if  adulterated,  were  but  to  mar 
it." 

"  You  care  little  for  the  legend,  meseems." 

"  Pardieu !  at  times,  yes,  over  much ;  but  in  sober 
moments,  I  think  that  the  brave  man  who  does  his  duty 
lacks  no  wizard  prophecy  to  fulfil  his  doom;  and 
whether  in  prayer  or  in  death,  in  fortune  or  defeat,  his 
soul  goes  straight  to  God !  " 

"  Umph,"  said  Richard,  musingly ;  and  there  was  a 
pause. 

"  Warwick,"  resumed  the  prince,  "  doubtless,  even 
on  your  return  to  London,  the  queen's  enmity  and  her 
mother's  will  not  cease.  Clarence  loves  Isabel,  but 
Clarence  knows  not  how  to  persuade  the  king  and  rule 
the  king's  womankind.  Thou  knowest  how  I  have 
stood  aloof  from  all  the  factions  of  the  court.  Un- 
happily I  go  to  the  borders,  and  can  but  slightly  serve 

thee.  But "  (he  stopped  short,  and  sighed 

heavily). 

"  Speak  on,  prince." 

"  In  a  word,  then,  if  I  were  thy  son,  Anne's  husband 
— I  see — I  see — I  see — "  (thrice  repeated  the  prince, 
with  a  vague  dreaminess  in  his  eye,  and  stretching  forth 
his  hand) — "  a  future  that  might  defy  all  foes,  opening 
to  me  and  thee !  " 

Warwick  hesitated  in  some  embarrassment. 

"  My  gracious  and  princely  cousin,"  he  said  at 
length,  "  this  proffer  is  indeed  sweet  incense  to  a 
father's  pride.  But  pardon  me,  as  yet,  noble  Richard, 
thou  art  so  young  that  the  king  and  the  world  would 
blame  me  did  I  suffer  my  ambition  to  listen  to  such 
temptation.  Enough,  at  present,  if  all  disputes  between 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  377 

our  house  and  the  king  can  be  smoothed  and  laid  at 
rest,  without  provoking  new  ones.  Nay,  pardon  me, 
prince,  let  this  matter  cease — at  least,  till  thy  return 
from  the  borders." 

"  May  I  take  with  me  hope  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Warwick,  "  thou  knowest  that  I  am  a 
plain  man ;  to  bid  thee  hope,  were  to  plight  my  word. 
And,"  he  added,  seriously,  "  there  be  reasons  grave, 
and  well  to  be  considered,  why  both  the  daughters  of  a 
subject  should  not  wed  with  their  king's  brothers.  Let 
this  cease  now,  I  pray  thee,  sweet  lord." 

Here  the  demoiselles  joined  their  father,  and  the 
conference  was  over ;  but  when  Richard,  an  hour  after, 
stood  musing  alone  on  the  battlements,  he  muttered  to 
himself — "  Thou  art  a  fool,  stout  earl,  not  to  have  wel- 
comed the  union  between  thy  power  and  my  wit.  Thou 
goest  to  a  court  where,  without  wit,  power  is  nought. 
Who  may  foresee  the  future  ?  Marry,  that  was  a  wise 
ancient  fable,  that  he  who  seized  and  bound  Proteus, 
could  extract  from  the  changeful  god  the  prophecy  of 
the  days  to  come.  Yea !  the  man  who  can  seize  Fate, 
can  hear  its  voice  predict  to  him.  And  by  my  own  heart 
and  brain,  which  never  yet  relinquished  what  affection 
yearned  for,  or  thought  aspired  to,  I  read,  as  in  a  book, 
Anne,  that  thou  shalt  be  mine;  and  that  where  wave 
on  yon  battlements  the  ensigns  of  Beauchamp,  Mon- 
thermer,  and  Nevile,  the  Boar  of  Gloucester  shall  liege 
it  over  their  broad  baronies  and  hardy  vassals." 


BOOK   VI 

HEREIN  ARE  OPENED  SOME  GLIMPSES  OF  THE 
FATE,  BELOW,  THAT  ATTENDS  THOSE  WHO 
ARE  BETTER  THAN  OTHERS,  AND  THOSE  WHO 
DESIRE  TO  MAKE  OTHERS  BETTER.  LOVE, 
DEMAGOGUY,  AND  SCIENCE  ALL  EQUALLY 
OFFSPRING  OF  THE  SAME  PROLIFIC  DELU- 
SION—VIZ., THAT  MEAN  SOULS  (THE  EARTH'S 
MAJORITY)  ARE  WORTH  THE  HOPE  AND  THE 
AGONY  OF  NOBLE  SOULS,  THE  EVERLASTING- 
LY SUFFERING  AND  ASPIRING  FEW 

CHAPTER  I 

NEW   DISSENSIONS 

We  must  pass  over  some  months.  Warwick  and  his 
family  had  returned  to  London,  and  the  meeting  be- 
tween Edward  and  the  earl  had  been  cordial  and  af- 
fectionate. Warwick  was  reinstated  in  the  offices 
which  gave  him  apparently  the  supreme  rule  in  Eng- 
land. The  Princess  Margaret  had  left  England,  as  the 
bride  of  Charles  the  Bold;  and  the  earl  had  attended 
the  procession,  in  honour  of  her  nuptials.  The  king, 
agreeably  with  the  martial  objects  he  had  had  long  at 
heart,  had  then  declared  war  on  Louis  XL,  and  par- 
liament was  addressed,  and  troops  were  raised  for  that 
impolitic  purpose.*  To  this  war,  however,  Warwick 

*  "  Parliamentary  Rolls,"  623.  The  fact  in  the  text  has  been 
neglected  by  most  historians. 

378 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  379 

was  inflexibly  opposed.  He  pointed  out  the  madness  of 
withdrawing  from  England  all  her  best  affected  chiv- 
alry, at  a  time  when  the  adherents  of  Lancaster,  still 
powerful,  would  require  no  happier  occasion  to  raise 
the  Red  Rose  banner.  He  showed  how  hollow  was  the 
hope  of  steady  aid  from  the  hot,  but  reckless  and  un- 
principled Duke  of  Burgundy,  and  how  different  now 
was  the  condition  of  France  under  a  king  of  consum- 
mate sagacity,  and  with  an  overflowing  treasury,  to  its 
distracted  state  in  the  former  conquests  of  the  English. 
This  opposition  to  the  king's  will  gave  every  opportu- 
nity for  Warwick's  enemies  to  renew  their  old  accusa- 
tion of  secret  and  treasonable  amity  with  Louis.  Al- 
though the  proud  and  hasty  earl  had  not  only  forgiven 
the  affront  put  upon  him  by  Edward,  but  had  sought  to 
make  amends  for  his  own  intemperate  resentment,  by 
public  attendance  on  the  ceremonials  that  accompanied 
the  betrothal  of  the  princess,  it  was  impossible  for  Ed- 
ward ever  again  to  love  the  minister  who  had  defied 
his  power,  and  menaced  his  crown.  His  humour  and 
his  suspicions  broke  forth  despite  the  restraint  that 
policy  dictated  to  him :  and  in  the  disputes  upon  the  in- 
vasion of  France,  a  second  and  more  deadly  breach  be- 
tween Edward  and  his  minister  must  have  yawned,  had 
not  events  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  proved  the  wis- 
dom of  Warwick's  distrust  of  Burgundy.  Louis  XI. 
bought  off  the  Duke  of  Bretagne,  patched  up  a  peace 
with  Charles  the  Bold,  and  thus  frustrated  all  the 
schemes  and  broke  all  the  alliances  of  Edward  at  the 
very  moment  his  military  preparations  were  ripe.* 

Still  the  angry  feelings  that  the  dispute  had  occa- 
sioned between  Edward  and  the  earl  were  not  removed 
with    the   cause;    and,    under   pretence   of   guarding 
*  W.  Wyr,  518. 


38o  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

against  hostilities  from  Louis,  the  king  requested  War- 
wick to  depart  to  his  government  of  Calais,  the  most 
important  and  honourable  post,  it  is  true,  which  a  sub- 
ject could  then  hold:  but  Warwick  considered  the  re- 
quest as  a  pretext  for  his  removal  from  the  court.  A 
yet  more  irritating  and  insulting  cause  of  offence  was 
found  in  Edward's  withholding  his  consent  to  Clar- 
ence's often-urged  demand  for  permission  to  wed  with 
the  Lady  Isabel.  It  is  true  that  this  refusal  was  ac- 
companied with  the  most  courteous  protestations  of  re- 
spect for  the  earl,  and  placed  only  upon  the  general 
ground  of  state  policy. 

"  My  dear  George,"  Edward  would  say,  "  the  heiress 
of  Lord  Warwick  is  certainly  no  mal-alliance  for  a 
king's  brother;  but  the  safety  of  the  throne  impera- 
tively demands,  that  my  brothers  should  strengthen 
my  rule,  by  connections  with  foreign  potentates.  I, 
it  is  true,  married  a  subject,  and  see  all  the  troubles  that 
have  sprung  from  my  boyish  passion  !  No,  no !  Go  to 
Bretagne.  The  duke  hath  a  fair  daughter,  and  we  will 
make  up  for  any  scantiness  in  the  dower.  Weary  me 
no  more,  George.  Fiat  voluntas  meal" 

But  the  motives  assigned  were  not  those  which  in- 
fluenced the  king's  refusal.  Reasonably  enough,  he 
dreaded  that  the  next  male  heir  to  his  crown  should 
wed  the  daughter  of  the  subject  who  had  given  that 
crown,  and  might  at  any  time  take  it  away.  He  knew 
Clarence  to  be  giddy,  unprincipled,  and  vain.  Ed- 
ward's faith  in  Warwick  was  shaken  by  the  continual 
and  artful  representations  of  the  queen  and  her  family. 
He  felt  that  the  alliance  between  Clarence  and  the  earl 
would  be  the  union  of  two  interests,  almost  irresistible, 
if  once  arrayed  against  his  own. 

But  Warwick,  who  penetrated  into  the  true  reasons 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  381 

for  Edward's  obstinacy,  was  yet  more  resentful  against 
the  reasons  than  the  obstinacy  itself.  The  one  galled 
him  through  his  affections,  the  other  through  his  pride ; 
and  the  first  were  as  keen  as  the  last  was  morbid.  He 
was  the  more  chafed,  inasmuch  as  his  anxiety  of  father 
became  aroused.  Isabel  was  really  attached  to  Clar- 
ence, who,  with  all  his  errors,  possessed  every  super- 
ficial attraction  that  graced  his  house ;  gallant  and 
handsome,  gay  and  joyous,  and  with  manners  that 
made  him  no  less  popular  than  Edward  himself. 

And  if  Isabel's  affections  were  not  deep,  disin- 
terested, and  tender,  like  those  of  Anne,  they  were 
strengthened  by  a  pride  which  she  inherited  from  her 
father,  and  a  vanity  which  she  took  from  her  sex.  It 
was  galling  in  the  extreme  to  feel  that  the  loves  between 
her  and  Clarence  were  the  court  gossip,  and  the  king's 
refusal  the  court  jest.  Her  health  gave  way,  and  pride 
and  love  both  gnawed  at  her  heart. 

It  happened,  unfortunately  for  the  king  and  for 
Warwick,  that  Gloucester,  whose  premature  acuteness 
and  sagacity  would  have  the  more  served  both,  inas- 
much as  the  views  he  had  formed  in  regard  to  Anne 
would  have  blended  his  interest,  in  some  degree,  with 
that  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  certainly  with  the  ob- 
ject of  conciliation  between  Edward  and  his  minister, — 
it  happened,  we  say,  unfortunately,  that  Gloucester  was 
still  absent  with  the  forces  employed  on  the  Scottish 
frontier,  whither  he  had  repaired  on  quitting  Middle- 
ham,  and  where  his  extraordinary  military  talents 
found  their  first  brilliant  opening, — and  he  was  there- 
fore absent  from  London  during  all  the  disgusts  he 
might  have  removed,  and  the  intrigues  he  might  have 
frustrated. 

But  the  interests  of  the  House  of  Warwick,  during 


382  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  earl's  sullen  and  indignant  sojourn  at  his  govern- 
ment of  Calais,  were  not  committed  to  unskilful  hands ; 
and  Montagu  and  the  archbishop  were  well  fitted  to 
cope  with  Lord  Rivers  and  the  Duchess  of  Bedford. 

Between  these  able  brothers,  one  day,  at  the  More,  an 
important  conference  took  place. 

"  I  have  sought  you,"  said  Montagu,  with  more  than 
usual  care  upon  his  brow — "  I  have  sought  you  in  con- 
sequence of  an  event  that  may  lead  to  issues  of  no  small 
moment,  whether  for  good  or  evil.  Clarence  has  sud- 
denly left  England  for  Calais." 

"  I  know  it,  Montagu ;  the  Duke  confided  to  me  his 
resolution  to  proclaim  himself  old  enough  to  marry — 
and  discreet  enough  to  choose  for  himself." 

"  And  you  approved  ?  " 

"  Certes ;  and,  sooth  to  say,  I  brought  him  to  that 
modest  opinion  of  his  own  capacities.  What  is  more 
still,  I  propose  to  join  him  at  Calais ! " 

"  George !  " 

"  Look  not  so  scared,  O  valiant  captain,  who  never 
lost  a  battle — where  the  church  meddles,  all  prospers. 
Listen !  "  And  the  young  prelate  gathered  himself  up 
from  his  listless  posture,  and  spoke  with  earnest 
unction — "  Thou  knowest  that  I  do  not  much  busy  my- 
self in  lay  schemes — when  I  do,  the  object  must  be 
great.  Now,  Montagu,  I  have  of  late  narrowly  and 
keenly  watched  that  spidery  web  which  ye  call  a  court, 
and  I  see  that  the  spider  will  devour  the  wasp,  unless 
the  wasp  boldly  break  the  web — for  woman-craft  I  call 
the  spider,  and  soldier-pride  I  style  the  wasp.  To  speak 
plainly,  these  Woodvilles  must  be  bravely  breasted  and 
determinately  abashed.  I  do  not  mean  that  we  can 
deal  with  the  king's  wife  and  her  family  as  with  any 
other  foes ;  but  we  must  convince  them  that  they  cannot 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  383 

cope  with  us,  and  that  their  interests  will  best  consist 
in  acquiescing  to  that  condition  of  things  which  places 
the  rule  of  England  in  the  hands  of  the  Neviles." 
"  My  own  thought,  if  I  saw  the  way !  " 
"  I  see  the  way  in  this  alliance ;  the  Houses  of  York 
and  Warwick  must  become  so  indissolubly  united,  that 
an  attempt  to  injure  the  one,  must  destroy  both.  The 
queen  and  the  Woodvilles  plot  against  us;  we  must 
raise  in  the  king's  family  a  counterpoise  to  their 
machinations.  It  brings  no  scandal  on  the  queen  to 
conspire  against  Warwick,  but  it  would  ruin  her  in  the 
eyes  of  England  to  conspire  against  the  king's  brother ; 
and  Clarence  and  Warwick  must  be  as  one.  This  is  not 
all !  If  our  sole  aid  was  in  giddy  George,  we  should 
but  buttress  our  house  with  a  weathercock.  This  con- 
nection is  but  as  a  part  of  the  grand  scheme  on  which 
I  have  set  my  heart — Clarence  shall  wed  Isabel, 
Gloucester  wed  Anne,  and  (let  thy  ambitious  heart  beat 
high,  Montagu)  the  king's  eldest  daughter  shall  wed 
thy  son — the  male  representative  of  our  triple  honours. 
Ah,  thine  eyes  sparkle  now  !  Thus  the  whole  royalty  of 
England  shall  centre  in  the  Houses  o*  Nevile  and 
York ;  and  the  Woodvilles  will  be  caught  and  hampered 
in  their  own  meshes — their  resentment  impotent;  for 
how  can  Elizabeth  stir  against  us,  if  her  daughter  be 
betrothed  to  the  son  of  Montagu,  the  nephew  of  War- 
wick ?  Clarence,  beloved  by  the  shallow  commons ;  * 
Gloucester,  adored  both  by  the  army  and  the  church; 
and  Montagu  and  Warwick,  the  two  great  captains  of 
the  age — is  not  this  a  combination  of  power,  that  may 
defy  Fate?" 

*  Singular  as  it  may  seem  to  those  who  know  not  that 
popularity  is  given  to  the  vulgar  qualities  of  men,  and  that 
where  a  noble  nature  becomes  popular  (a  rare  occurrence), 
it  is  despite  the  nobleness — not  because  of  it.  Clarence  was 
a  popular  idol  even  to  the  time  of  his  death. — Croyl.,  562. 


384  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Oh,  George !  "  said  Montagu,  admiringly,  "  what 
pity  that  the  church  should  spoil  such  a  statesman !  " 

"  Thou  art  profane,  Montagu ;  the  church  spoils  no 
man — the  church  leads  and  guides  ye  all ;  and,  mark, 
I '  look  farther  still.  I  would  have  intimate  league 
with  France :  I  would  strengthen  ourselves  with  Spain 
and  the  German  Emperor ;  I  would  buy,  or  seduce  the 
votes  of  the  sacred  college ;  I  would  have  thy  poor 
brother,  whom  thou  so  pitiest  because  he  has  no  son 
to  marry  a  king's  daughter — no  daughter  to  wed  with 
a  king's  son — I  would  have  thy  unworthy  brother, 
Montagu,  the  father  of  the  whole  Christian  world,  and, 
from  the  chair  of  the  Vatican,  watch  over  the  weal  of 
kingdoms.  And  now,  seest  thou  why  with  to-morrow's 
sun  I  depart  for  Calais,  and  lend  my  voice  in  aid  of 
Clarence's,  for  the  first  knot  in  this  complicated  bond  ?  " 

"  But,  will  Warwick  consent  while  the  king  opposes? 
Will  his  pride " 

"  His  pride  serves  us  here ;  for,  so  long  as  Clarence 
did  not  dare  to  gainsay  the  king,  Warwick,  in  truth, 
might  well  disdain  to  press  his  daughter's  hand  upon 
living  man.  The  king  opposes,  but  with  what  right? 
Warwick's  pride  will  but  lead  him,  if  well  addressed, 
to  defy  affront,  and  to  resist  dictation.  Besides,  our 
brother  has  a  woman's  heart  for  his  children ;  and 
Isabel's  face  is  pale,  and  that  will  plead  more  than  all 
my  eloquence." 

"  But  can  the  king  forgive  your  intercession,  and 
Warwick's  contumacy  ?  " 

"  Forgive ! — the  marriage  once  over,  what  is  left  for 
him  to  do  ?  He  is  then  one  with  us,  and  when  Glouces- 
ter returns  all  will  be  smooth  again — smooth  for  the 
second  and  more  important  nuptials — and  the  second 
shall  preface  the  third;  meanwhile,  you  return  to  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  385 

court.  To  these  ceremonials  you  need  be  no  party: 
keep  but  thy  handsome  son  from  breaking  his  neck  in 
over-riding  his  hobby,  and  '  bide  thy  time ! ' ' 

Agreeably  with  the  selfish,  but  sagacious  policy,  thus 
detailed,  the  prelate  departed  the  next  day  for  Calais, 
where  Clarence  was  already  urging  his  suit  with  the 
ardent  impatience  of  amorous  youth.  The  archbishop 
found,  however,  that  Warwick  was  more  reluctant  than 
he  had  anticipated  to  suffer  his  daughter  to  enter  any 
house  without  the  consent  of  its  chief,  nor  would  the 
earl,  in  all  probability,  have  acceded  to  the  prayers  of 
the  princely  suitor,  had  not  Edward,  enraged  at  the 
flight  of  Clarence,  and  worked  upon  by  the  artful 
queen,  committed  the  imprudence  of  writing  an  intem- 
perate and  menacing  letter  to  the  earl,  which  called  up 
all  the  passions  of  the  haughty  Warwick. 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  thinks  this  ungrateful 
man  not  only  to  dishonour  me,  by  his  method  of  marry- 
ing his  sisters,  but  will  he  also  play  the  tyrant  with 
me  in  the  disposal  of  mine  own  daughter !  He  threats ! 
he ! — enough.  It  is  due  to  me  to  show  that  there  lives 
no  man  whose  threats  I  have  not  the  heart  to  defy !  " 
And  the  prelate,  rinding  him  in  this  mood,  had  no 
longer  any  difficulty  in  winning  his  consent.  This  ill- 
omened  marriage  was,  accordingly,  celebrated  with 
great  and  regal  pomp  at  Calais,  and  the  first  object  of 
the  archbishop  was  attained. 

While  thus  stood  affairs  between  the  two  great 
factions  of  the  state,  those  discontents  which  War- 
wick's presence  at  court  had  awhile  laid  at  rest,  again 
spread,  broad  and  far,  throughout  the  land.  The  lux- 
ury and  indolence  of  Edward's  disposition,  in  ordinary 
times,  always  surrendered  him  to  the  guidance  of 
others.  In  the  commencement  of  his  reign  he  was  emi- 
VOL.  L— 25 


386  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

nently  popular,  and  his  government,  though  stern, 
suited  to  the  times ;  for  then  the  presiding  influence  was 
that  of  Lord  Warwick.  As  the  queen's  counsels  pre- 
vailed over  the  consummate  experience  and -masculine 
vigour  of  the  earl,  the  king's  government  lost  both 
popularity  and  respect,  except  only  in  the  metropolis; 
and  if,  at  the  close  of  his  reign,  it  regained  all  its  earlier 
favour  with  the  people,  it  must  be  principally  ascribed 
to  the  genius  of  Hastings,  then  England's  most  power- 
ful subject,  and  whose  intellect  calmly  moved  all  the 
springs  of  action.  But  now  everywhere  the  royal  au- 
thority was  weakened;  and  while  Edward  was  feast- 
ing at  Shene,  and  Warwick  absent  at  Calais,  the  prov- 
inces were  exposed  to  all  the  abuses  which  most  gall 
a  population.  The  poor  complained  that  undue  ex~ 
actions  were  made  on  them  by  the  hospitals,  abbeys, 
and  barons;  the  church  complained  that  the  queen's 
relations  had  seized  and  spent  church  moneys ;  the  men 
of  birth  and  merit  complained  of  the  advancement  of 
new  men  who  had  done  no  service ;  and  all  these  sev- 
eral discontents  fastened  themselves  upon  the  odious 
Woodvilles,  as  the  cause  of  all.  The  second  breach, 
now  notorious,  between  the  king  and  the  all-beloved 
Warwick,  was  a  new  aggravation  of  the  popular  hatred 
to  the  queen's  family,  and  seemed  to  give  occasion  for 
the  malcontents  to  appear  with  impunity,  at  least  so  far 
as  the  earl  was  concerned :  it  was,  then,  at  this  critical 
time  that  the  circumstances  we  are  about  to  relate 
occurred. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  387 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  WOULD-BE  IMPROVERS  OF  JOVE'S  FOOT-BALL,  EARTH 

THE  SAD  FATHER  AND  THE  SAD  CHILD THE  FAIR 

RIVALS 

Adam  Warner  was  at  work  on  his  crucible  when  the 
servitor  commissioned  to  attend  him  opened  the  cham- 
ber door,  and  a  man  dressed  in  the  black  gown  of  a  stu- 
dent entered. 

He  approached  the  alchemist,  and  after  surveying 
him  for  a  moment  in  a  silence  that  seemed  not  without 
contempt,  said  "  What,  Master  Warner,  are  you  so 
wedded  to  your  new  studies  that  you  have  not  a  word 
to  bestow  on  an  old  friend  ?  " 

Adam  turned,  and  after  peevishly  gazing  at  the  in- 
truder a  few  moments,  his  face  brightened  up  into 
recognition. 

"En  iterum!"  he  said.  "Again,  bold  Robin  Hil- 
yard,  and  in  a  scholar's  garb.  Ha !  doubtless  thou  hast 
learned  ere  this  that  peaceful  studies  do  best  ensure 
man's  weal  below,  and  art  come  to  labour  with  me  in  the 
high  craft  of  mind-work !  " 

"  Adam,"  quoth  Hilyard,  "  ere  I  answer,  tell  me  this 
— Thou,  with  thy  science  wouldst  change  the  world, — 
art  thou  a  jot  nearer  to  thy  end  ?  " 

"  Well-a-day,"  said  poor  Adam,  "  you  know  little 
what  I  have  undergone.  For  danger  to  myself  by  rack 
and  gibbet  I  say  nought.  Man's  body  is  fair  prey  to 
cruelty,  and  what  a  king  spares  to-day  the  worm  shall 
gnaw  to-morrow.  But  mine  invention — my  Eureka — 
look !  "  and  stepping  aside,  he  lifted  a  cloth,  and  ex- 
hibited the  mangled  remains  of  the  unhappy  model. 


388  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  I  am  forbid  to  restore  it,"  continued  Adam,  dole- 
fully. "  I  must  work  day  and  night  to  make  gold,  and 
the  gold  comes  not :  and  my  only  change  of  toil  is  when 
the  queen  bids  me  construct  little  puppet-boxes  for  her 
children!  How,  then,  can  I  change  the  world?  And 
thou,"  he  added,  doubtingly  and  eagerly — "  thou,  with 
thy  plots  and  stratagem,  and  active  demagoguy, 
thinkest  thou  that  thou  hast  changed  the  world,  or  ex- 
tracted one  drop  of  evil  out  of  the  mixture  of  gall  and 
hyssop  which  man  is  born  to  drink  ?  " 

Hilyard  was  silent,  and  the  two  world-betterers — 
the  philosopher  and  the  demagogue — gazed  on  each 
other,  half  in  sympathy,  half  in  contempt.  At  last 
Robin  said — 

"  Mine  old  friend,  hope  sustains  us  both ;  and  in  the 
wilderness  we  yet  behold  the  Pisgah !  But  to  my  busi- 
ness. Doubtless  thou  art  permitted  to  visit  Henry  in 
his  prison." 

"  Not  so,"  replied  Adam ;  "  and  for  the  rest,  since  I 
now  eat  King  Edward's  bread,  and  enjoy  what  they  call 
his  protection,  ill  would  it  beseem  me  to  lend  myself  to 
plots  against  his  throne." 

"  Ah !  man — man — man,"  exclaimed  Hilyard,  bit- 
terly, "  thou  art  like  all  the  rest — scholar  or  serf,  the 
same  slave ;  a  king's  smile  bribes  thee  from  a  people's 
service !  " 

Before  Adam  could  reply,  a  panel  in  the  wainscot 
slid  back,  and  the  bald  head  of  a  friar  peered  into  the 
room.  "  Son  Adam,"  said  the  holy  man,  "  I  crave  your 
company  an  instant,  oro  vestrem  aurem;"  and  with 
this  abominable  piece  of  Latinity  the  friar  vanished. 

With  a  resigned  and  mournful  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders, Adam  walked  across  the  room,  when  Hilyard,  ar- 
resting his  progress,  said,  crossing  himself,  and  in  a 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  389 

subdued  and  fearful  whisper,  "  Is  not  that  Friar  Bun- 
gey,  the  notable  magician  ?  " 

"  Magician  or  not,"  answered  Warner,  with  a  lip  of 
inexpressible  contempt  and  a  heavy  sigh,  "  God  par- 
don his  mother  for  giving  birth  to  such  a  numbskull !  " 
and  with  this  pious  and  charitable  ejaculation  Adam 
disappeared  in  the  adjoining  chamber,  appropriated  to 
the  friar. 

"  Hum,"  soliloquized  Hilvard,  "  they  say  that  Friar 
Bungey  is  employed  by  the  witch  duchess  in  everlast- 
ing diabolisms  against  her  foes.  A  peep  into  his  den 
might  suffice  me  for  a  stirring  tale  to  the  people." 

No  sooner  did  this  daring  desire  arise  than  the  hardy 
Robin  resolved  to  gratify  it:  and  stealing  on  tiptoe 
along  the  wall,  he  peered  cautiously  through  the  aper- 
ture made  by  the  sliding  panel.  An  enormous  stuffed 
lizard  hung  from  the  ceiling,  and  various  strange  rep- 
tiles, dried  into  mummy,  were  ranged  around  and 
glared  at  the  spy  with  green  glass  eyes.  A  huge  book 
lay  open  on  a  tripod  stand,  and  a  caldron  seethed  over 
a  slow  and  dull  fire.  A  sight  yet  more  terrible  presently 
awaited  the  rash  beholder. 

"  Adam,"  said  the  friar,  laying  his  broad  palm  on 
the  student's  reluctant  shoulders,  "  inter  sapentes." 

"  Sapientes,  brother,"  groaned  Adam. 

"  That's  the  old  form,  Adam,"  quoth  the  friar,  su- 
perciliously— "  sapentes  is  the  last  improvement.  I 
say,  between  wise  men  there  is  no  envy.  Our  noble  and 
puissant  patroness,  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  hath  com- 
mitted to  me  a  task  that  promiseth  much  profit.  I  have 
worked  at  it  night  and  day  stotis  filibus." 

"  O,  man,  what  lingo  speakest  thou  ? — stotis  filibus!  " 

"  Tush,  if  it  is  not  good  Latin,  it  does  as  well,  son 
Adam.  I  say  I  have  worked  at  it  night  and  day,  and  it 


390  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

is  now  advanced  eno'  for  experiment.  But  thou  art 
going  to  sleep." 

"  Despatch — speak  out — speak  on !  "  said  Adam,  des- 
perately— "  what  is  thy  achievement  ?  " 

"  See!  "  answered  the  friar,  majestically;  and  draw- 
ing aside  a  black  pall,  he  exhibited  to  the  eyes  of  Adam, 
and  to  the  more  startled  gaze  of  Robin  Hilyard,  a  pale, 
cadaverous,  corpse-like  image,  of  pigmy  proportions, 
but  with  features  moulded  into  a  coarse  caricature  of 
the  lordly  countenance  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick. 

"  There,"  said  the  friar,  complacently,  and  rubbing 
his  hands,  "  that  is  no  piece  of  bungling,  eh !  As  like 
the  stout  earl  as  one  pea  to  another." 

"  And  for  what  hast  thou  kneaded  up  all  this  waste 
of  wax  ?  "  asked  Adam.  "  Forsooth,  I  knew  not  you 
had  so  much  of  ingenious  art ;  algates,  the  toy  is  some- 
what ghastly." 

"  Ho,  ho !  "  quoth  the  friar,  laughing  so  as  to  show  a 
set  of  jagged,  discoloured  fangs  from  ear  to  ear, 
"  surely  thou,  who  art  so  notable  a  wizard  and  scholar, 
knowest  for  what  purpose  we  image  forth  our  enemies. 
Whatever  the  duchess  inflicts  upon  this  figure,  the 
Earl  of  Warwick,  whom  it  representeth,  will  feel 
through  his  bones  and  marrow — waste  wax,  waste 
man !  " 

"  Thou  art  a  devil  to  do  this  thing,  and  a  blockhead 
to  think  it,  O  miserable  friar ! "  exclaimed  Adam, 
roused  from  all  his  gentleness. 

"  Ha !  "  cried  the  friar,  no  less  vehemently,  and  his 
burly  face  purple  with  passion,  "  dost  thou  think  to 
bandy  words  with  me  ?  Wretch !  I  will  set  goblins 
to  pinch  thee  black  and  blue.  I  will  drag  thee  at  night 
over  all  the  jags  of  Mount  Pepanon,  at  the  tail  of  a 
mad  nightmare.  I  will  put  aches  in  all  thy  bones,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  391 

the  blood  in  thy  veins  shall  run  into  sores  and  blotches. 
Am  I  not  Friar  Bungey  ?  and  what  art  thou  ?  " 

At  these  terrible  denunciations,  the  sturdy  Robin, 
though  far  less  superstitious  than  most  of  his  con- 
temporaries, was  seized  with  a  trembling  from  head 
to  foot;  and  expecting  to  see  goblins  and  imps  start 
forth  from  the  walls,  he  retired  hastily  from  his  hid- 
ing-place, and,  without  waiting  for  further  commune 
with  Warner,  softly  opened  the  chamber  door  and 
stole  down  the  stairs.  Adam,  however,  bore  the  storm 
unquailingly,  and  when  the  holy  man  paused  to  take 
breath,  he  said,  calmly — 

"  Verily,  if  thou  canst  do  these  things,  there  must 
be  secrets  in  Nature  which  I  have  not  yet  discovered. 
Howbeit,  though  thou  art  free  to  try  all  thou  canst 
against  me,  thy  threats  make  it  necessary  that  this 
communication  between  us  should  be  nailed  up,  and  I 
shall  so  order." 

The  friar,  who  was  ever  in  want  of  Adam's  aid, 
either  to  construe  a  bit  of  Latin,  or  to  help  him  in  some 
chemical  illusion,  by  no  means  relished  this  quiet  re- 
tort; and  holding  out  his  huge  hand  to  Adam,  said, 
with  affected  cordiality — 

"  Pooh !  we  are  brothers,  and  must  not  quarrel.  I 
was  over  hot,  and  thou  too  provoking;  but  I  honour 
and  love  thee,  man — let  it  pass.  As  for  this  figure, 
doubtless  we  might  pink  it  all  over,  and  the  earl  be 
never  the  worse.  But  if  our  employers  order  these 
things,  and  pay  for  them,  we  cunning  men  make  profit 
by  fools !  " 

"  It  is  men  like  thee  that  bring  shame  on  science," 
answered  Adam,  sternly ;  "  and  I  will  not  listen  to  thee 
longer." 

"  Nay,    but   you    must,"    said   the    friar,   clutching 


392  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

Adam's  robe,  and  concealing  his  resentment  by  an  af- 
fected grin.  :'  Thou  thinkest  me  a  mere  ignoramus — • 
ha!  ha! — I  think  the  same  of  thee.  Why,  man,  thou 
hast  never  studied  the  parts  of  the  human  body,  I'll 
swear." 

"  I'm  no  leech,"  said  Adam.    "  Let  me  go." 

"  No — not  yet.  I  will  convict  thee  of  ignorance. 
Thou  dost  not  even  know  where  the  liver  is  placed." 

"  I  do,"  answered  Adam,  shortly ;  "  but  what  then  ?  " 

"  Thou  dost  ? — I  deny  it.  Here  is  a  pin ;  stick  it 
into  this  wax,  man,  where  thou  sayest  the  liver  lies  in 
the  human  frame." 

Adam  unsuspiciously  obeyed. 

"  Well ! — the  liver  is  there,  eh.  Ah !  but  where  are 
the  lungs  ?  " 

"  Why,  here." 

"And  the  midriff?" 

"  Here,  certes." 

"  Right ! — thou  mayest  go  now,"  said  the  friar,  drily. 
Adam  disappeared  through  the  aperture,  and  closed 
the  panel. 

"  Now  I  know  where  the  lungs,  midriff,  and  liver 
are,"  said  the  friar  to  himself,  "  I  shall  get  on  famously. 
'Tis  a  useful  fellow,  that,  or  I  should  have  had  him 
hanged  long  ago !  " 

Adam  did  not  remark,  on  his  re-entrance,  that  his 
visitor,  Hilyard,  had  disappeared,  and  the  philosopher 
was  soon  re-immersed  in  the  fiery  interest  of  his  thank- 
less labours. 

It  might  be  an  hour  afterwards,  when,  wearied  and 
exhausted  by  perpetual  hope  and  perpetual  disappoint- 
ment, he  flung  himself  on  his  seat ;  and  that  deep  sad- 
ness, which  they  who  devote  themselves  in  this  noisy 
world  to  wisdom  and  to  truth  alone  can  know — suf- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  393 

fused  his  thoughts,  and  murmured  from  his  feverish 
'lips. 

"  Oh,  hard  condition  of  my  life !  "  groaned  the  sage 
— "  ever  to  strive,  and  never  to  accomplish.  The  sun 
sets  and  the  sun  rises  upon  my  eternal  toils,  and  my 
age  stands  as  distant  from  the  goal,  as  stood  my  youth ! 
Fast,  fast  the  mind  is  wearing  out  the  frame,  and  my 
schemes  have  but  woven  the  ropes  of  sand,  and  my 
name  shall  be  writ  in  water.  Golden  dreams  of  my 
young  hope,  where  are  ye?  Methought  once,  that 
could  I  obtain  the  grace  of  royalty,  the  ear  of  power, 
the  command  of  wealth,  my  path  to  glory  was  made 
smooth  and  sure — I  should  become  the  grand  inventor 
of  my  time  and  land ;  I  should  leave  my  lore  a  heritage 
and  blessing  wherever  labour  works  to  civilise  the 
round  globe.  And  now  my  lodging  is  a  palace — roy- 
alty my  patron — they  give  me  gold  at  my  desire — my 
wants  no  longer  mar  my  leisure.  Well,  and  for  what  ? 
On  condition  that  I  forego  the  sole  task  for  which 
patronage,  wealth,  and  leisure  were  desired!  There 
stands  the  broken  iron,  and  there  simmers  the  ore  I 
am  to  turn  to  gold — the  iron  worth  more  than  all  the 
gold,  and  the  gold,  never  to  be  won !  Poor,  I  was  an 
inventor,  a  creator,  a  true  magician — protected,  patron- 
ised, enriched,  I  am  but  the  alchemist,  the  bubble,  the 
dupe  or  duper,  the  fool's  fool.  God,  brace  up  my 
limbs !  Let  me  escape — give  me  back  my  old  dream, 
and  die  at  least,  if  accomplishing  nothing,  hoping 
all !  " 

He  rose  as  he  spoke ;  he  strode  across  the  chamber 
with  majestic  step,  with  resolve  upon  his  brow.  He 
stopped  short,  for  a  sharp  pain  shot  across  his  heart. 
Premature  age,  and  the  disease  that  labour  brings, 
were  at  their  work  of  decay  within :  the  mind's  excite- 


394  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

ment  gave  way  to  the  body's  weakness,  and  he  sank 
again  upon  his  seat,  breathing  hard,  gasping,  pale,  the 
icy  damps  upon  his  brow.  Bubblingly  seethed  the 
molten  metals,  redly  glowed  the  poisonous  charcoal, 
the  air  of  death  was  hot  within  the  chamber  where  the 
victim  of  royal  will  pandered  to  the  desire  of  gold. 
Terrible  and  eternal  moral  for  Wisdom  and  for  Ava- 
rice, for  sages  and  for  kings — ever  shall  he  who  would 
be  the  maker  of  gold,  breathe  the  air  of  death ! 

"  Father,"  said  the  low  and  touching  voice  of  one 
who  had  entered  unperceived,  and  who  now  threw  her 
arms  round  Adam's  neck,  "  father,  thou  art  ill,  and 
sorely  suffering ' 

"  At  heart — yes,  Sibyll.  Give  me  thine  arm ;  let  us 
forth  and  taste  the  fresher  air." 

It  was  so  seldom  that  Warner  could  be  induced  to 
quit  his  chamber,  that  these  words  almost  startled 
Sibyll,  and  she  looked  anxiously  in  his  face,  as  she 
wiped  the  dews  from  his  forehead. 

"  Yes — air — air !  "  repeated  Adam,  rising. 

Sibyll  placed  his  bonnet  over  his  silvered  locks,  drew 
his  gown  more  closely  round  him,  and  slowly,  and  in 
silence,  they  left  the  chamber,  and  took  their  way  across 
the  court  to  the  ramparts  of  the  fortress-palace. 

The  day  was  calm  and  genial,  with  a  low  but  fresh 
breeze  stirring  gently  through  the  warmth  of  noon. 
The  father  and  child  seated  themselves  on  the  parapet, 
and  saw,  below,  the  gay  and  numerous  vessels  that 
glided  over  the  sparkling  river,  while  the  dark  walls 
of  Baynard's  Castle,  the  adjoining  bulwark  and  bat- 
tlements of  Montfichet,  and  the  tall  watch-tower  of 
Warwick's  mighty  mansion,  frowned  in  the  distance, 
against  the  soft  blue  sky.  "  There,"  said  Adam, 
quietly,  and  pointing  to  the  feudal  roofs,  "  there  seems 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  395 

to  rise  power — and  yonder  (glancing  to  the  river), 
yonder  seems  to  flow  Genius !  A  century  or  so  hence, 
the  walls  shall  vanish,  but  the  river  shall  roll  on.  Man 
makes  the  castle,  and  founds  the  power — God  forms 
the  river  and  creates  the  Genius.  And  yet,  Sibyll,  there 
may  be  streams  as  broad  and  stately  as  yonder  Thames, 
that  flow  afar  in  the  waste,  never  seen,  never  heard  by 
man,  what  profits  the  river  unmarked? — what  the 
genius  never  to  be  known  ?  " 

It  was  not  a  common  thing  with  Adam  Warner  to 
be  thus  eloquent.  Usually  silent  and  absorbed,  it  was 
not  his  gift  to  moralize  or  declaim.  His  soul  must  be 
deeply  moved  before  the  profound  and  buried  senti- 
ment within  it  could  escape  into  words. 

Sibyll  pressed  her  father's  hand,  and,  though  her 
own  heart  was  very  heavy,  she  forced  her  lips  to  smile 
and  her  voice  to  soothe.  Adam  interrupted  her. 

"  Child,  child,  ye  women  know  not  what  presses 
darkest  and  most  bitterly  on  the  minds  of  men.  You 
know  not  what  it  is  to  form  out  of  immaterial  things 
some  abstract  but  glorious  object — to  worship — to 
serve  it — to  sacrifice  to  it,  as  on  an  altar,  youth,  health, 
hope,  life — and  suddenly,  in  old  age,  to  see  that  the 
idol  was  a  phantom,  a  mockery,  a  shadow  laughing  us 
to  scorn,  because  we  have  sought  to  clasp  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  father,  women  have  known  that  illusion." 

"What!    Do  they  study?" 

"  No,  father,  but  they  feel !  " 

"  Feel !    I  comprehend  thee  not." 

"  As  man's  genius  to  him,  is  woman's  heart  to  her," 
answered  Sibyll,  her  dark  and  deep  eyes  suffused  with 
tears.  "Doth  not  the  heart  create — invent?  Doth  it 
not  dream?  Doth  it  not  form  its  idol  out  of  air? 
Goeth  it  not  forth  into  the  future,  to  prophesy  to  itself  ? 


396  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

And,  sooner  or  later,  in  age  or  youth,  doth  it  not  wake 
at  last,  and  see  how  it  hath  wasted  its  all  on  follies? 
Yes,  father,  my  heart  can  answer,  when  thy  genius 
would  complain." 

"  Sibyll,"  said  Warner,  roused  and  surprised,  and 
gazing  on  her  wistfully,  "  time  flies  apace.  Till  this 
hour  I  have  thought  of  thee  but  as  a  child — an  infant. 
Thy  words  disturb  me  now." 

"  Think  not  of  them,  then.  Let  me  never  add  one 
grief  to  thine." 

"  Thou  art  brave  and  gay  in  thy  silken  sheen,"  said 
Adam,  curiously  stroking  down  the  rich,  smooth  stuff 
of  Sibyll's  tunic ;  "  her  grace  the  duchess  is  generous 
to  us.  Thou  art  surely  happy  here !  " 

"Happy!" 

"  Not  happy !  "  exclaimed  Adam,  almost  joyfully, 
"  wouldst  thou  that  we  were  back  once  more  in  our 
desolate  ruined  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes ! — but  rather  away,  far  away,  in  some 
quiet  village,  some  green  nook ;  for  the  desolate,  ruined 
home  was  not  safe  for  thine  old  age." 

"  I  would  we  could  escape,  Sibyll,"  said  Adam,  earn- 
estly, in  a  whisper,  and  with  a  kind  of  innocent  cun- 
ning in  his  eye,  "  we  and  the  poor  Eureka !  This  palace 
is  a  prison-house  to  me.  I  will  speak  to  the  Lord 
Hastings,  a  man  of  great  excellence,  and  gentle  too. 
He  is  ever  kind  to  us." 

"  No,  no,  father,  not  to  him,"  cried  Sibyll,  turning 
pale, — "  let  him  not  know  a  word  of  what  we  would 
propose,  nor  whither  we  would  fly." 

"  Child,  he  loves  me,  or  why  does  he  seek  me  so 
often,  and  sit  and  talk  not?  " 

Sibyll  pressed  her  clasped  hands  tightly  to  her 
bosom,  but  made  no  answer ;  and,  while  she  was  sum- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  397 

moning  courage  to  say  something  that  seemed  to  op- 
press her  thoughts  with  intolerable  weight,  a  footstep 
sounded  gently  near,  and  the  Lady  of  Bonville  (then 
on  a  visit  to  the  queen),  unseen  and  unheard  by  the 
two,  approached  the  spot.  She  paused,  and  gazed  at 
Sibyll,  at  first  haughtily;  and  then,  as  the  deep  sad- 
ness of  that  young  face  struck  her  softer  feelings,  and 
the  pathetic  picture  of  father  and  child,  thus  alone  in 
their  commune,  made  its  pious  and  sweet  effect,  the 
gaze  changed  from  pride  to  compassion,  and  the  lady 
said,  courteously — 

"  Fair  mistress,  canst  thou  prefer  this  solitary  scene 
to  the  gay  company  about  to  take  the  air  in  her  grace's 
gilded  barge  ?  " 

Sibyll  looked  up  in  surprise,  not  unmixed  with  fear. 
Never  before  had  the  great  lady  spoken  to  her  thus 
gently.  Adam,  who  seemed  for  a  while  restored  to 
the  actual  life,  saluted  Katherine  with  simple  dignity, 
and  took  up  the  word — 

"  Noble  lady,  whoever  thou  art,  in  thine  old  age, 
and  thine  hour  of  care,  may  thy  child,  like  this  poor 
girl,  forsake  all  gayer  comrades  for  a  parent's  side !  " 

The  answer  touched  the  Lady  of  Bonville,  and  in- 
voluntarily she  extended  her  hand  to  Sibyll.  With  a 
swelling  heart,  Sibyll,  as  proud  as  herself,  bent  silently 
over  that  rival's  hand.  Katherine's  marble  cheek  col- 
oured, as  she  interpreted  the  girl's  silence. 

"  Gentle  sir,"  she  said,  after  a  short  pause,  "  wilt 
thou  permit  me  a  few  words  with  thy  fair  daughter? 
and  if  in  aught,  since  thou  speakest  of  care,  Lord  War- 
wick's sister  can  serve  thee,  prithee  bid  thy  young 
maiden  impart  it,  as  to  a  friend." 

"  Tell  her,  then,  my  Sibyll — tell  Lord  Warwick's 
sister,  to  ask  the  king  to  give  back  to  Adam  Warner 


398          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

his  poverty,  his  labour,  and  his  hope,"  said  the  scholar, 
and  his  noble  head  sank  gloomily  on  his  bosom. 

The  Lady  of  Bonville,  still  holding  Sibyll's  hand, 
drew  her  a  few  paces  up  the  walk,  and  then  she  said 
suddenly,  and  with  some  of  that  blunt  frankness  which 
belonged  to  her  great  brother,  "  Maiden,  can  there  be 
confidence  between  thee  and  me  ?  " 

"  Of  what  nature,  lady  ?  " 

Again  Katherine  blushed,  but  she  felt  the  small  hand 
she  held  tremble  in  her  clasp,  and  was  emboldened — 

"  Maiden,  thou  mayst  resent  and  marvel  at  my 
words;  but,  when  I  had  fewer  years  than  thou,  my 
father  said,  '  There  are  many  carks  in  life  which  a 
little  truth  could  end.'  So  would  I  heed  his  lesson. 
William  de  Hastings  has  followed  thee  with  a  homage 
that  has  broken,  perchance,  many  as  pure  a  heart — 
nay,  nay,  fair  child,  hear  me  on.  Thou  hast  heard  that 
in  youth  he  wooed  Katherine  Nevile — that  we  loved, 
and  were  severed.  They  who  see  us  now,  marvel 
whether  we  hate  or  love, — no,  not  love — that  question 
were  an  insult  to  Lord  Bonville's  wife ! — Ofttimes  we 
seem  pitiless  to  each  other, — why?  Lord  Hastings 
would  have  wooed  me,  an  English  matron,  to  forget 
mine  honour  and  my  house's.  He  chafes  that  he  moves 
me  not.  /  behold  him  debasing  a  great  nature,  to  un- 
worthy triflings  with  man's  conscience  and  a  knight's 
bright  faith.  But  mark  me! — the  heart  of  Hastings 
is  everlastingly  mine,  and  mine  alone!  What  seek  I 
in  this  confidence?  To  warn  thee.  Wherefore?  Be- 
cause for  months,  amidst  all  the  vices  of  this  foul 
court-air — amidst  the  flatteries  of  the  softest  voice  that 
ever  fell  upon  woman's  ear — amidst,  peradventure,  the 
pleadings  of  thine  own  young  and  guileless  love — 
thine  innocence  is  unscathed.  And  therefore  Kath- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  399 

erine  of  Bonville  may  be  the  friend  of  Sibyll  War- 
ner." 

However  generous  might  be  the  true  spirit  of  these 
words,  it  was  impossible  that  they  should  not  gall  and 
humiliate  the  young  and  flattered  beauty  to  whom  they 
were  addressed.  They  so  wholly  discarded  all  belief 
in  the  affection  of  Hastings  for  Sibyll ;  they  so 
haughtily  arrogated  the  mastery  over  his  heart ;  they 
so  plainly  implied  that  his  suit  to  the  poor  maiden  was 
but  a  mockery  or  dishonour,  that  they  made  even  the 
praise  for  virtue  an  affront  to  the  delicate  and  chaste 
ear  on  which  they  fell.  And,  therefore,  the  reader  will 
not  be  astonished,  though  the  Lady  of  Bonville  cer- 
tainly was,  when  Sibyll,  drawing  her  hand  from  Kath- 
erine's  clasp,  stopping  short,  and  calmly  folding  her 
arms  upon  her  bosom,  said — 

"  To  what  this  tends,  lady,  I  know  not.  The  Lord 
Hastings  is  free  to  carry  his  homage  where  he  will. 
He  has  sought  me—- not  I  Lord  Hastings.  And  if  to- 
morrow he  offered  me  his  hand,  I  would  reject  it,  if  I 
were  not  convinced  that  the  heart " 

"  Damsel/'  interrupted  the  Lady  Bonville,  in  amazed 
contempt,  "  the  hand  of  Lord  Hastings !  Look  ye 
indeed  so  high,  or  has  he  so  far  paltered  with  your 
credulous  youth  as  to  speak  to  you,  the  daughter  of 
the  alchemist,  of  marriage.  If  so,  poor  child,  be- 
ware !  " 

"  I  knew  not,"  replied  Sibyll,  bitterly,  "  that  Sibyll 
Warner  was  more  below  the  state  of  Lord  Hastings, 
than  Master  Hastings  was  once  below  the  state  of  Lady 
Katherine  Nevile." 

"  Thou  art  distraught  with  thy  self-conceit,"  an- 
swered the  dame,  scornfully ;  and,  losing  all  the  com- 
passion and  friendly  interest  she  had  before  felt,  "  my 


400          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

rede  is  spoken — reject  it  if  thou  wilt,  in  pride.    Rue 
thy  folly  thou  wilt  in  shame." 

She  drew  her  wimple  round  her  face  as  she  said 
these  words,  and,  gathering  up  her  long  robe,  swept 
slowly  on. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEREIN   THE  DEMAGOGUE   SEEKS   THE   COURTIER 

On  quitting  Adam's  chamber,  Hilyard  paused  not 
till  he  reached  a  stately  house,  not  far  from  Warwick 
Lane,  which  was  the  residence  of  the  Lord  Montagu. 

That  nobleman  was  employed  in  reading,  or  rather, 
in  pondering  over,  two  letters,  with  which  a  courier 
from  Calais  had  just  arrived — the  one  from  the  arch- 
bishop, the  other  from  Warwick.  In  these  epistles 
were  two  passages,  strangely  contradictory  in  their 
counsel.  A  sentence  in  Warwick's  letter  ran  thus: 
"  It  hath  reached  me,  that  certain  disaffected  men 
meditate  a  rising  against  the  king,  under  pretext  of 
wrongs  from  the  queen's  kin.  It  is  even  said  that  our 
kinsmen,  Coniers  and  Fitzhugh,  are  engaged  therein. 
Need  I  caution  thee  to  watch  well  that  they  bring  our 
name  into  no  disgrace  or  attaint.  We  want  no  aid  to 
right  our  own  wrongs ;  and  if  the  misguided  men  rebel, 
Warwick  will  best  punish  Edward,  by  proving  that 
he  is  yet  of  use." 

On  the  other  hand,  thus  wrote  the  prelate : — 

"  The  king,  wroth  with  my  visit  to  Calais,  has  taken 
from  me  the  chancellor's  seal.  I  humbly  thank  him, 
and  shall  sleep  the  lighter  for  the  fardel's  loss.  Now, 
mark  me,  Montagu :  our  kinsman,  Lord  Fitzhugh's 
son,  and  young  Henry  Nevile,  aided  by  old  Sir  John 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          401 

Coniers,  meditate  a  fierce  and  well-timed  assault  upon 
the  Woodvilles.  Do  thou  keep  neuter — neither  help 
nor  frustrate  it.  Howsoever  it  end,  it  will  answer  our 
views,  and  shake  our  enemies." 

Montagu  was  yet  musing  over  these  tidings,  and 
marvelling  that  he  in  England  should  know  less  than 
his  brethren  in  Calais  of  events  so  important,  when  his 
page  informed  him  that  a  stranger,  with  urgent  mes- 
sages from  the  north  country,  craved  an  audience. 
Imagining  that  these  messages  would  tend  to  illustrate 
the  communications  just  received,  he  ordered  the  visi- 
tor to  be  admitted. 

He  scarcely  noticed  Hilyard  on  his  entrance,  and 
said,  abruptly,  "  Speak  shortly,  friend — I  have  but  lit- 
tle leisure." 

"  And*  yet,  Lord  Montagu,  my  business  may  touch 
thee  home !  " 

Montagu,  surprised,  gazed  more  attentively  on  his 
visitor :  "  Surely,  I  know  thy  face,  friend — we  have 
met  before." 

"  True ;  thou  wert  then  on  thy  way  to  the  More." 

"  I  remember  me ;  and  thou  then  seem'dst,  from  thy 
bold  words,  on  a  still  shorter  road  to  the  gallows." 

"  The  tree  is  not  planted,"  said  Robin,  carelessly, 
"  that  will  serve  for  my  gibbet.  But  were  there  no  ' 
words  uttered  by  me  that  thou  couldst  not  disapprove  ? 
I  spoke  of  lawless  disorders — of  shameful  malfaisance 
throughout  the  land — which  the  Woodvilles  govern 
under  a  lewd  tyrant " 

"Traitor,  hold!" 

"  A  tyrant,"  continued  Robin  (heeding  not  the  in- 
terruption nor  the  angry  gesture  of  Montagu),   "a 
tyrant  who  at  this  moment  meditates  the  destruction 
of  the  house  of  Nevile.    And  not  contented  with  this 
VOL.  I.— 26 


402          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

world's  weapons,  palters  with  the  Evil  One  for  the 
snares  and  devilries  of  witchcraft." 

"  Hush,  man !  Not  so  loud,"  said  Montagu,  in  an 
altered  voice.  "  Approach  nearer — nearer  yet.  They 
who  talk  of  a  crowned  king — whose  right  hand  raises 
armies,  and  whose  left  hand  reposes  on  the  block — 
should  beware  how  they  speak  above  their  breath. 
Witchcraft,  sayest  thou?  Make  thy  meaning  clear." 

Here  Robin  detailed,  with  but  little  exaggeration, 
the  scene  he  had  witnessed  in  Friar  Bungey's  chamber 
— the  waxen  image,  the  menaces  against  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  and  the  words  of  the  friar,  naming  the 
Duchess  of  Bedford  as  his  employer.  Montagu  lis- 
tened in  attentive  silence.  Though  not  perfectly  free 
from  the  credulities  of  the  time,  shared  even  by  the 
courageous  heart  of  Edward,  and  the  piercing  intellect 
of  Gloucester,  he  was  yet  more  alarmed  by  such  proofs 
of  determined  earthly  hostility  in  one  so  plotting  and 
so  near  to  the  throne  as  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  than 
by  all  the  pins  and  needles  that  could  be  planted  into 
the  earl's  waxen  counterpart 

"  A  devilish  malice,  indeed,"  said  he,  when  Hilyard 
had  concluded ;  "  and  yet  this  story,  if  thou  wilt  ad- 
here to  it,  may  serve  us  well  at  need.  I  thank  thee, 
trusty  friend,  for  thy  confidence,  and  beseech  thee  to 
come  at  once  with  me  to  the  king.  There  will  I  de- 
nounce our  foe,  and,  with  thine  evidence,  we  will  de- 
mand her  banishment." 

"  By  your  leave,  not  a  step  will  I  budge,  my  Lord 
Montagu,"  quoth  Robin,  bluntly — "  I  know  how  these 
matters  are  managed  at  court.  The  king  will  patch  up 
a  peace  between  the  duchess  and  you,  and  chop  off  my 
ears  and  nose  as  a  liar  and  common  scandal-maker. 
No,  no ;  denounce  the  duchess  and  all  the  Woodvilles, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          403 

I  will ; — but  it  shall  not  be  in  the  halls  of  the  Tower, 
but  on  the  broad  plains  of  Yorkshire,  with  twenty 
thousand  men  at  my  back." 

"  Ha !  thou  a  leader  of  armies — and  for  what  end  ? 
— to  dethrone  the  king  ?  " 

"  That  as  it  may  be — but  first  for  justice  to  the  peo- 
ple ;  it  is  the  people's  rising  that  I  will  head,  and  not 
a  faction's.  Neither  White  Rose  nor  Red  shall  be  on 
my  banner,  but  our  standard  shall  be  the  gory  head 
of  the  first  oppressor  we  can  place  upon  a  pole." 

"  What  is  it,  the  people,  as  you  word  it,  would  de- 
mand?" 

"  I  scarce  know  what  we  demand  as  yet — that  must 
depend  upon  how  we  prosper,"  returned  Hilyard,  with 
a  bitter  laugh ;  "  but  the  rising  will  have  some  good, 
if  it  shows  only  to  you  lords  and  Normans,  that  a 
Saxon  people  does  exist,  and  will  turn  when  the  iron 
heel  is  upon  its  neck.  We  are  taxed,  ground,  pillaged, 
plundered — sheep,  maintained  to  be  sheared  for  your 
peace,  or  butchered  for  your  war.  And  now  will  we 
have  a  petition  and  a  charter  of  our  own,  Lord  Mon- 
tagu. I  speak  frankly — I  am  in  thy  power — thou 
canst  arrest  me — thou  canst  strike  off  the  head  of  this 
revolt.  Thou  art  the  king's  friend — wilt  thon  do  so? 
No,  thou  and  thy  house  have  wrongs  as  well  as  we, 
the  people.  And  a  part  at  least  of  our  demands  and 
our  purpose  is  your  own." 

"  What  part,  bold  man  ?  " 

"  This :  we  shall  make  our  first  complaint  the  bane- 
ful domination  of  the  queen's  family ;  and  demand  the 
banishment  of  the  Woodvilles,  root  and  stem." 

"  Hem !  "  said  Montagu,  involuntarily  glancing  over 
the  archbishop's  letter, — "  hem,  but  without  outrage 
to  the  king's  state  and  person  ?  " 


404          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

"  Oh,  trust  me,  my  lord,  the  franklin's  head  con- 
tains as  much  north-country  cunning  as  the  noble's. 
They  who  would  speed  well,  must  feel  their  way  cau- 
tiously." 

"  Twenty  thousand  men  —  impossible !  Who  art 
thou,  to  collect  and  head  them  ?  " 

"  Plain  Robin  of  Redesdale." 

"  Ha !  "  exclaimed  Montagu,  "  is  it  indeed,  as  I  was 
taught  to  suspect!  Art  thou  that  bold,  strange,  mad 
fellow,  whom,  by  pike  and  brand — a  soldier's  oath — I, 
a  soldier,  have  often  longed  to  see.  Let  me  look  at 
thee.  'Fore  St.  George,  a  tall  man,  and  well  knit,  with 
dareiment  on  thy  brow.  Why,  there  are  as  many  tales 
of  thee  in  the  north,  as  of  my  brother  the  earl.  Some 
say  thou  art  a  lord  of  degree  and  birth,  others  that 
thou  art  the  robber  of  Hexham,  to  whom  Margaret 
of  Anjou  trusted  her  own  life  and  her  son's." 

"  Whatever  they  say  of  me,"  returned  Robin,  "  they 
all  agree  in  this,  that  I  am  a  man  of  honest  word  and 
bold  deed — that  I  can  stir  up  the  hearts  of  men,  as 
the  wind  stirreth  fire ;  that  I  came  an  unknown  stranger 
into  the  parts  where  I  abide,  and  that  no  peer  in  this 
roiaulme,  save  Warwick  himself,  can  do  more  to  raise 
an  army  or  shake  a  throne." 

"  But  by  what  spell  ?  " 

"  By  men's  wrongs,  lord,"  answered  Robin,  in  a  deep 
voice ; — "  and  now,  ere  this  moon  wanes,  Redesdale  is 
a  camp !  " 

"  What  the  immediate  cause  of  complaint?  " 

"  The  hospital  of  St.  Leonard's  has  compelled  us 
unjustly  to  render  them  a  thrave  of  corn." 

"  Thou  art  a  cunning  knave !  Pinch  the  belly  if 
you  would  make  Englishmen  rise." 

"  True,"  said  Robin,  smiling  grimly — "  and  now — 
what  say  you — will  you  head  us  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          405 

'"Head  you!    No!" 

"Will  you  betray  us?" 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  betray  twenty  thousand  men ;  if 
ye  rise  merely  to  free  yourselves  from  a  corn-tax  and 
England  from  the  Woodvilles,  I  see  no  treason  in  your 
revolt." 

"  I  understand  you,  Lord  Montagu,"  said  Robin, 
with  a  stern  and  half-scornful  smile — "  you  are  not 
above  thriving  by  our  danger;  but  we  need  now  no 
lord  and  baron — we  will  suffice  for  ourselves.  And  the 
hour  will  come,  believe  me,  when  Lord  Warwick,  pur- 
sued by  the  king,  must  fly  to  the  commons.  Think  well 
of  these  things  and  this  prophecy,  when  the  news  from 
the  north  startles  Edward  of  March  in  the  lap  of  his 
harlots." 

Without  saying  another  word,  he  turned  and  quitted 
the  chamber  as  abruptly  as  he  had  entered. 

Lord  Montagu  was  not,  for  his  age,  a  bad  man ; 
though  worldly,  subtle,  and  designing;  with  some  of 
the  craft  of  his  prelate  brother,  he  united  something 
of  the  high  soul  of  his  brother  soldier.  But  that  age 
had  not  the  virtue  of  later  times,  and  cannot  be  judged 
by  its  standard.  He  heard  this  bold  dare-devil  menace 
his  country  with  civil  war  upon  grounds  not  plainly 
stated,  nor  clearly  understood — he  aided  not,  but  he 
connived :  "  Twenty  thousand  men  in  arms,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself — "  say  half — well,  ten  thousand — not 
against  Edward,  but  the  Woodvilles!  It  must  bring 
the  king  to  nis  senses — must  prove  to  him  how  odious 
the  mushroom  race  of  the  Woodvilles,  and  drive  him 
for  safety  and  for  refuge  to  Montagu  and  Warwick. 
If  the  knaves  presume  too  far,"  (and  Montagu  smiled) 
— "  what  are  undisciplined  multitudes  to  the  eye  of  a 
skilful  captain  ?  Let  the  storm  blow,  we  will  guide  the 
blast.  In  this  world  man  must  make  use  of  man." 


406          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 
CHAPTER  IV 

SIBYLL 

While  Montagu,  in  anxious  forethought,  awaited  the 
revolt  that  Robin  of  Redesdale  had  predicted — while 
Edward  feasted  and  laughed,  merry-made  with  his 
courtiers,  and  aided  the  conjugal  duties  of  his  good 
citizens  in  London — while  the  queen  and  her  father, 
Lord  Rivers,  more  and  more  in  the  absence  of  War- 
wick, encroached  on  all  the  good  things  power  can 
bestow  and  avarice  seize — while  the  Duchess  of  Bed- 
ford and  Friar  Bungey  toiled  hard  at  the  waxen  effigies 
of  the  great  earl,  who  still  held  his  royal  son-in-law  in 
his  court  at  Calais — the  stream  of  our  narrative  winds 
from  its  noisier  channels,  and  lingers,  with  a  quiet 
wave,  around  the  temple  of  a  virgin's  heart.  Where- 
fore is  Sibyll  sad?  Some  short  month  since,  and  we 
beheld  her  gay  with  hope,  and  basking  in  the  sunny 
atmosphere  of  pleasure  and  of  love.  The  mind  of  this 
girl  was  a  singular  combination  of  tenderness  and 
pride — the  first  wholly  natural,  the  last  the  result  of 
circumstance  and  position.  She  was  keenly  conscious 
of  her  gentle  birth,  and  her  earlier  prospects  in  the 
court  of  Margaret ;  and  the  poverty,  and  distress  and 
solitude  in  which  she  had  grown  up  from  the  child 
into  the  woman,  had  only  served  to  strengthen  what, 
in  her  nature,  was  already  strong,  and  to  heighten 
whatever  was  already  proud.  Ever  in  her  youngest 
dreams  of  the  future,  ambition  had  visibly  blent  itself 
with  the  vague  ideas  of  love.  The  imagined  wooer 
was  less  to  be  young  and  fair,  than  renowned  and 
stately.  She  viewed  him  through  the  mists  of  the 
future,  as  the  protector  of  her  persecuted  father — as 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          407 

the  rebuilder  of  a  fallen  house — as  the  ennobler  of  a 
humbled  name.  And  from  the  moment  in  which  her 
girl's  heart  beat  at  the  voice  of  Hastings,  the  ideal  of 
her  soul  seemed  found.  And  when  transplanted  to 
the  court,  she  learned  to  judge  of  herxnative  grace  and 
loveliness  by  the  common  admiration  they  excited,  her 
hopes  grew  justified  to  her  inexperienced  reason. 
Often  and  ever  the  words  of  Hastings,  at  the  house 
of  the  Lady  Longueville,  rang  in  her  ear,  and  thrilled 
through  the  solitude  of  night — "  Whoever  is  fair  and 
chaste,  gentle  and  loving,  is,  in  the  eyes  of  William  de 
Hastings,  the  mate  and  equal  of  a  king."  In  visits 
that  she  had  found  opportunity  to  make  to  the  Lady 
Longueville,  these  hopes  were  duly  fed;  for  the  old 
Lancastrian  detested  the  Lady  Bonville,  as  Lord  War- 
wick's sister,  and  she  would  have  reconciled  her  pride 
to  view  with  complacency  his  alliance  with  the  alche- 
mist's daughter,  if  it  led  to  his  estrangement  from  the 
memory  of  his  first  love ;  and,  therefore,  when  her  quick 
eye  penetrated  the  secret  of  Sibyll's  heart,  and  when 
she  witnessed — for  Hastings  often  encountered  (and 
seemed  to  seek  the  encounter)  the  young  maid  at 
Lady  Longueville's  house — the  unconcealed  admiration 
which  justified  Sibyll  in  her  high-placed  affection,  she 
scrupled  not  to  encourage  the  blushing  girl,  by  predic- 
tions in  which  she  forced  her  own  better  judgment  to 
believe.  Nor,  when  she  learned  Sibyll's  descent  from 
a  family  that  had  once  ranked  as  high  as  that  of  Has- 
tings, would  she  allow  that  there  was  any  disparity  in 
the  alliance  she  foretold.  But  more,  far  more  than 
Lady  Longueville's  assurances,  did  the  delicate  and 
unceasing  gallantries  of  Hastings  himself  flatter  the 
fond  faith  of  Sibyll.  True,  that  he  spoke  not  actually 
of  love,  but  every  look  implied,  every  whisper  seemed 


408          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

to  betray  it.  And  to  her  he  spoke  as  to  an  equal,  not 
in  birth  alone,  but  in  mind;  so  superior  was  she  in 
culture,  in  natural  gifts,  and,  above  all,  in  that  train 
of  high  thought,  and  elevated  sentiment,  in  which 
genius  ever  finds  a  sympathy,  to  the  court-flutterers  of 
her  sex,  that  Hastings,  whether  or  not  he  cherished  a 
warmer  feeling,  might  well  take  pleasure  in  her  con- 
verse, and  feel  the  lovely  infant  worthy  the  wise 
man's  trust.  He  spoke  to  her  without  reserve  of  the 
Lady  Bonville,  and  he  spoke  with  bitterness.  "  I  loved 
her,"  he  said,  "  as  woman  is  rarely  loved.  She  deserted 
me  for  another — rather  should  she  have  gone  to  the 
convent  than  the  altar ;  and  now,  forsooth,  she  deems 
she  hath  the  right  to  taunt  and  to  rate  me,  to  dictate 
to  me  the  way  I  should  walk,  and  to  flaunt  the  honours 
I  have  won." 

"  May  that  be  no  sign  of  a  yet  tender  interest  ?  " 
said  Sibyll,  timidly. 

The  eyes  of  Hastings  sparkled  for  a  moment,  but 
the  gleam  vanished.  "  Nay,  you  know  her  not.  Her 
heart  is  marble,  as  hard  and  as  cold.  Her  very  virtue 
but  the  absence  of  emotion — I  would  say,  of  gentler 
emotion — for,  pardieu,  such  emotions  as  come  from 
ire  and  pride  and  scorn,  are  the  daily  growth  of  that 
stern  soil.  Oh,  happy  was  my  escape ! — happy  the  de- 
sertion, which  my  young  folly  deemed  a  curse.  No !  " 
he  added,  with  a  sarcastic  quiver  of  his  lip — "  No ; 
what  stings  and  galls  the  Lady  of  Harrington  and  Bon- 
ville— what  makes  her  countenance  change  in  my  pres- 
ence, and  her  voice  sharpen  at  my  accost,  is  plainly 
this:  in  wedding  her  dull  lord,  and  rejecting  me, 
Katherine  Nevile  deemed  she  wedded  power,  and  rank, 
and  station ;  and  now,  while  we  are  both  young,  how 
proves  her  choice  ?  The  Lord  of  Harrington  and  Bon- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          409 

ville  is  so  noted  a  dolt,  that  even  the  Neviles  cannot 
help  him  to  rise — the  meanest  office  is  above  his  mind's 
level ;  and,  dragged  down  by  the  heavy  clay  to  which 
her  wings  are  yoked,  Katherine,  Lady  of  Harrington 
and  Bonville — oh,  give  her  her  due  titles! — is  but  a 
pageant  figure  in  the  court.  If  the  war-trump  blew, 
his  very  vassals  would  laugh  at  a  Bonville's  banner, 
and  beneath  the  flag  of  poor  William  de  Hastings 
would  gladly  march  the  best  chivalry  of  the  land. 
And  this  it  is,  I  say,  that  galls  her.  For  evermore  she 
is  driven  to  compare  the  state  she  holds  as  the  dame 
of  the  accepted  Bonville,  with  that  she  lost  as  the  wife 
of  the  disdained  Hastings." 

And  if,  in  the  heat  and  passion  that  such  words  be- 
trayed, Sibyll  sighed  to  think  that  something  of  the 
old  remembrance  yet  swelled  and  burned,  they  but 
impressed  her  more  with  the  value  of  a  heart,  in  which 
the  characters  once  writ  endured  so  long, — and  roused 
her  to  a  tender  ambition  to  heal  and  to  console. 

Then  looking  into  her  own  deep  soul,  Sibyll  beheld 
there  a  fund  of  such  generous,  pure,  and  noble  affec- 
tion— such  reverence  as  to  the  fame — such  love  as  to 
the  man,  that  she  proudly  felt  herself  worthier  of 
Hastings  than  the  haughty  Katherine.  She  entered 
then,  as  it  were,  the  lists  with  this  rival — a  memory 
rather,  so  she  thought,  than  a  corporeal  being;  and 
her  eye  grew  brighter,  her  step  statelier,  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  contest — the  anticipation  of  the  triumph. 
For,  what  diamond  without  its  flaw  ?  What  rose  with- 
out its  canker?  And  bedded  deep  in  that  exquisite 
and  charming  nature,  lay  the  dangerous  and  fatal 
weakness  which  has  cursed  so  many  victims,  broken 
so  many  hearts — the  vanity  of  the  sex.  We  may  now 
readily  conceive  how  little  predisposed  was  Sibyll  to 


410  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  blunt  advances  and  displeasing  warnings  of  the 
Lady  Bonville,  and  the  more  so  from  the  time  in  which 
they  chanced.  For  here  comes  the  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion—" Why  was  Sibyll  sad  ?  " 

The  reader  may  determine  for  himself  what  were 
the  ruling  motives  of  Lord  Hastings  in  the  court  he 
paid  to  Sibyll.  Whether  to  pique  the  Lady  Bonville, 
and  force  upon  her  the  jealous  pain  he  restlessly  sought 
to  inflict — whether,  from  the  habit  of  his  careless  life, 
seeking  the  pleasure  of  the  moment,  with  little  fore- 
thought of  the  future,  and  reconciling  itself  to  much 
cruelty,  by  that  profound  contempt  for  human  beings, 
man,  and  still  more  for  woman,  which  sad  experience 
often  brings  to  acute  intellect — or  whether,  from  the 
purer  and  holier  complacency  with  which  one,  whose 
youth  has  fed  upon  nobler  aspirations  than  manhood 
cares  to  pursue,  suns  itself  back  to  something  of  its 
earlier  lustre  in  the  presence  and  the  converse  of  a 
young  bright  soul : — Whatever,  in  brief,  the  earlier 
motives  of  gallantries  to  Sibyll,  once  begun,  constantly 
renewed, — by  degrees  wilder,  and  warmer,  and  guiltier 
emotions,  roused  up  in  the  universal  and  all-conquer- 
ing lover  the  vice  of  his  softer  nature.  When  calm 
and  unimpassioned  his  conscience  had  said  to  him — 
"  Thou  shalt  spare  that  flower."  But  when  once  the 
passion  was  roused  within  him,  the  purity  of  the  flower 
was  forgotten  in  the  breath  of  its  voluptuous  sweetness. 

And  but  three  days  before  the  scene  we  have  de- 
scribed with  Katherine,  Sibyll's  fabric  of  hope  fell  to 
the  dust.  For  Hastings  spoke  for  the  first  time  of 
love — for  the  first  time  knelt  at  her  feet — for  the  first 
time,  clasping  to  his  heart  that  virgin  hand,  poured 
forth  the  protestation  and  the  vow.  And  oh !  woe — 
woe!  for  the  first  time  she  learned  how  cheaply  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          411 

great  man  held  the  poor  maiden's  love,  how  little  he 
deemed  that  purity  and  genius  and  affection  equalled 
the  possessor  of  fame  and  wealth  and  power;  for 
plainly  visible,  boldly  shown  and  spoken,  the  love  that 
she  had  foreseen  as  a  glory  from  the  Heaven,  sought 
but  to  humble  her  to  the  dust. 

The  anguish  of  that  moment  was  unspeakable — and 
she  spoke  it  not.  But  as  she  broke  from  the  profaning 
clasp,  as  escaping  to  the  threshold,  she  cast  on  the  un- 
worthy wooer  one  look  of  such  reproachful  sorrow, 
as  told  at  once  all  her  love  and  all  her  horror, — the 
first  act  in  the  eternal  tragedy  of  man's  wrong  and 
woman's  grief  was  closed.  And  therefore  was  Sibyll 
sad! 


CHAPTER  V 

KATHERINE 

For  several  days  Hastings  avoided  Sibyll ;  in  truth, 
he  felt  remorse  for  his  design,  and  in  his  various,  active, 
and  brilliant  life,  he  had  not  the  leisure  for  obstinate 
and  systematic  siege  to  a  single  virtue,  nor  was  he, 
perhaps,  any  longer  capable  of  deep  and  enduring  pas- 
sion ;  his  heart,  like  that  of  many  a  chevalier  in  the 
earlier  day,  had  lavished  itself  upon  one  object,  and 
sullenly,  upon  regrets  and  dreams,  and  vain  anger  and 
idle  scorn,  it  had  exhausted  those  sentiments  which 
make  the  sum  of  true  love.  And  so,  like  Petrarch, 
whom  his  taste  and  fancy  worshipped,  and  many  an- 
other votary  of  the  gentil  Dieu,  while  his  imagination 
devoted  itself  to  the  chaste  and  distant  ideal — the  spir- 
itual Laura — his  senses,  ever  vagrant  and  disengaged, 
settled,  without  scruple,  upon  the  thousand  Cynthias 


412          THE  LAST  OF  THE  .BARONS 

of  the  minute.  But  then,  those  Cynthias  were,  for  the 
most  part,  and  especially  of  late  years,  easy  and  light- 
won  nymphs ;  their  coyest  were  of  another  clay  from 
the  tender  but  lofty  Sibyll.  And  Hastings  shrunk 
from  the  cold-blooded  and  deliberate  seduction  of  one 
so  pure,  while  he  could  not  reconcile  his  mind  to  con- 
template marriage  with  a  girl  who  could  give  nothing 
to  his  ambition ;  and  yet  it  was  not,  in  this  last  re- 
luctance, only  his  ambition  that  startled  and  recoiled. 
In  that  strange  tyranny  over  his  whole  soul,  which 
Katherine  Bonville  secretly  exercised,  he  did  not  dare 
to  place  a  new  barrier  evermore  between  her  and  him- 
self. The  Lord  Bonville  was  of  infirm  health ;  he  had 
been  more  than  once  near  to  death's  door,  and  Has- 
tings, in  every  succeeding  fancy  that  beguiled  his  path, 
recalled  the  thrill  of  his  heart,  when  it  had  whispered, 
"  Katherine,  the  loved  of  thy  youth,  may  yet  be  thine !  " 
And  then  that  Katherine  rose  before  him,  not  as  she 
now  swept  the  earth,  with  haughty  step  and  frigid  eye, 
and  disdainful  lip,  but  as — in  all  her  bloom  of  maiden 
beauty,  before  the  temper  was  soured,  or  the  pride 
aroused, — she  had  met  him  in  the  summer  twilight, 
by  the  trysting-tree ; — broken  with  him  the  golden  ring 
of  faith,  and  wept  upon  his  bosom. 

And  yet,  during  his  brief  and  self-inflicted  absence 
from  Sibyll,  this  wayward  and  singular  personage,  who 
was  never  weak,  but  to  women,  and  ever  weak  to  them, 
felt  that  she  had  made  herself  far  dearer  to  him  than 
he  had  at  first  supposed  it  possible.  He  missed  that 
face,  ever,  till  the  last  interview,  so  confiding  in  the 
unconsciously  betrayed  affection.  He  felt  how  su- 
perior in  sweetness,  and  yet  in  intellect,  Sibyll  was  to 
Katherine;  there  was  more  in  common  between  her 
mind  and  his  in  all  things,  save  one.  But  oh,  that  one 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          413 

exception! — what  a  world  lies  within  it — the  memory 
of  the  spring  of  life!  In  fact,  though  Hastings  knew 
it  not,  he  was  in  love  with  two  objects  at  once;  the 
one,  a  chimera,  a  fancy,  an  ideal,  an  Eidolon,  under 
the  name  of  Katherine;  the  other,  youth,  and  fresh- 
ness, and  mind,  and  heart,  and  a  living  shape  of  beauty, 
under  the  name  of  Sibyll.  Often  does  this  double  love 
happen  to  men ;  but  when  it  does,  alas  for  the  human 
object!  for  the  shadowy  and  the  spiritual  one  is  im- 
mortal,— until,  indeed,  it  be  possessed ! 

It  might  be,  perhaps,  with  a  resolute  desire  to  con- 
quer the  new  love  and  confirm  the  old,  that  Hastings, 
one  morning,  repaired  to  the  house  of  the  Lady  Bon- 
ville,  for  her  visit  to  the  court  had  expired.  It  was  a 
large  mansion,  without  the  Lud  Gate. 

He  found  the  dame  in  a  comely  chamber,  seated  in 
the  sole  chair  the  room  contained,  to  which  was  at- 
tached a  foot-board  that  served  as  a  dais,  while  around 
her,  on  low  stools,  sate — some  spinning,  others  broid- 
ering — some  ten  or  twelve  young  maidens  of  good 
family,  sent  to  receive  their  nurturing  under  the  high- 
born Katherine,*  while  two  other  and  somewhat  elder 
virgins  sate  a  little  apart,  but  close  under  the  eye  of 
the  lady,  practising  the  courtly  game  of  "  prime :  "  for 
the  diversion  of  cards  was  in  its  zenith  of  fashion  un- 
der Edward  IV.,  and  even  half  a  century  later  was 
considered  one  of  the  essential  accomplishments  of  a 
well-educated  young  lady.f  The  exceeding  stiffness, 

*  And  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  modern  notions,  the  highest 
lady  who  received  such  pensioners  accepted  a  befitting  salary 
for  their  board  and  education. 

t  So  the  Princess  Margaret,  daughter  of  Henry  VII.,  at  the 
age  of  fourteen,  exhibits  her  skill,  in  prime  or  trump,  to  her 
betrothed  husband,  James  IV.  of  Scotland;  so,  among  the 
womanly  arts  of  the  unhappy  Katherine  of  Arragon.  it  is  men- 
tioned that  she  could  play  at  "  cardis  and  dyce."  (See  Strutt's 


4H  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  solemn  silence  of  this  female  circle,  but  little  ac- 
corded with  the  mood  of  the  graceful  visitor.  The 
demoiselles  stirred  not  at  his  entrance,  and  Katherine 
quietly  motioned  him  to  a  seat  at  some  distance. 

"  By  your  leave,  fair  lady,"  said  Hastings,  "  I  rebel 
against  so  distant  an  exile  from  such  sweet  company ;  " 
and  he  moved  the  tabouret  close  to  the  formidable 
chair  of  the  presiding  chieftainess. 

Katherine  smiled  faintly,  but  not  in  displeasure. 

"  So  gay  a  presence,"  she  said,  "  must,  I  fear  me, 
a  little  disturb  these  learners." 

Hastings  glanced  at  the  prim  demureness  written  on 
each  blooming  visage,  and  replied — 

"  You  wrong  their  ardour  in  such  noble  studies.  I 
would  wager  that  nothing  less  than  my  entering  your 
bower  on  horseback,  with  helm  on  head  and  lance  in 
rest,  could  provoke  even  a  smile  from  one  pair  of  the 
twenty  rosy  lips  round  which,  methinks,  I  behold 
Cupido  hovering  in  vain !  " 

The  Baroness  bent  her  stately  brows,  and  the  twenty 
rosy  lips  were  all  tightly  pursed  up,  to  prevent  the 
indecorous  exhibition  which  the  wicked  courtier  had 
provoked.  But  it  would  not  do :  one  and  all  the  twenty 
lips  broke  into  a  smile — but  a  smile  so  tortured,  con- 
strained, and  nipped  in  the  bud,  that  it  only  gave  an 
expression  of  pain  to  the  features  it  was  forbidden  to 
enliven. 

"And  what  brings  the  Lord  Hastings  hither?" 
asked  the  baroness,  in  a  formal  tone. 

"  Can  you  never  allow,  for  motive,  the  desire  of 
pleasure,  fair  dame?" 

"  Games  and  Pastimes,"  Hone's  edition,  p.  327.)  The  legis- 
lature was  very  anxious  to  keep  these  games  sacred  to  the 
aristocracy,  and  very  wroth  with  'prentices  and  the  vulgar  for 
imitating  the  ruinous  amusements  of  their  betters. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          41$ 

That  peculiar  and  exquisite  blush,  which  at  moments 
changed  the  whole  physiognomy  of  Katherine,  flitted 
across  her  smooth  cheek,  and  vanished.  She  said, 
gravely — 

"  So  much  do  I  allow  it  in  you,  my  lord,  that  hence 
my  question." 

"  Katherine !  "  exclaimed  Hastings,  in  a  voice  of  ten- 
der reproach,  and  attempting  to  seize  her  hand,  forget- 
ful of  all  other  presence  save  that  to  which  the  blush, 
that  spoke  of  old,  gave  back  the  ancient  charm. 

Katherine  cast  a  hurried  and  startled  glance  over  the 
maiden  group,  and  her  eye  detected  on  the  automaton 
faces  one  common  expression  of  s'urprise.  Humbled 
and  deeply  displeased,  she  rose  from  the  awful  chair, 
and  then,  as  suddenly  reseating  herself,  she  said,  with 
a  voice  and  lip  of  the  most  cutting  irony,  "  My  lord 
chamberlain  is,  it  seems,  so  habituated  to  lackey  his 
king  amidst  the  goldsmiths  and  grocers,  that  he  for- 
gets the  form  of  language  and  respect  of  bearing  which 
a  noblewoman  of  repute  is  accustomed  to  consider 
seemly." 

Hastings  bit  his  lip,  and  his  falcon  eye  shot  indig- 
nant fire.  "  Pardon,  my  Lady  of  Bonville  and  Har- 
rington, I  did  indeed  forget  what  reasons  the  dame  of 
so  wise  and  so  renowned  a  lord  hath  to  feel  pride  in 
the  titles  she  hath  won.  But  I  see  that  my  visit  hath 
chanced  out  of  season.  My  business,  in  truth,  was 
rather  with  my  lord,  whose  counsel  in  peace  is  as 
famous  as  his  truncheon  in  war !  " 

"  It  is  enough,"  replied  Katherine,  with  a  dignity 
that  rebuked  the  taunt,  "  that  Lord  Bonville  has  the 
name  of  an  honest  man, — who  never  rose  at  court." 

"  Woman,  without  one  soft  woman-feeling !  "  mut- 
tered Hastings,  between  his  ground  teeth,  as  he  ap- 


416          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

preached  the  lady  and  made  his  profound  obeisance. 
The  words  were  intended  only  for  Katherine's  ear,  and 
they  reached  it.  Her  bosom  swelled  beneath  the  bro- 
caded gorget,  and  when  the  door  closed  on  Hastings, 
she  pressed  her  hands  convulsively  together,  and  her 
dark  eyes  were  raised  upward. 

"  My  child,  thou  art  entangling  thy  skein,"  said  the 
•Lady  of  Bonville,  as  she  passed  one  of  the  maidens, 
towards  the  casement,  which  she  opened, — "  The  air 
to-day  weighs  heavily !  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

JOY  FOR  ADAM,  AND  HOPE  FOR  SIBYLL — AND  POPULAR 
FRIAR  BUNGEY! 

Leaping  on  his  palfrey,  Hastings  rode  back  to  the 
Tower — dismounted  at  the  gate — passed  on  to  the  lit- 
tle postern  in  the  inner  court — and  paused  not  till  he 
was  in  Warner's  room. 

"  How  now,  friend  Adam  ?    Thou  art  idle." 

"  Lord  Hastings,  I  am  ill." 

"  And  thy  child  not  with  thee  ?  " 

"  She  is  gone  to  her  grace  the  duchess,  to  pray  her  to 
grant  me  leave  to  go  home,  and  waste  no  more  life  on 
making  gold." 

"  Home*  Go  hence !  We  cannot  hear  it !  The 
duchess  must  not  grant  it.  "I  will  not  suffer  the  king  to 
lose  so  learned  a  philosopher." 

"  Then  pray  the  king  to  let  the  philosopher  achieve 
that  which  is  in  the  power  of  labour."  He  pointed  to 
the  Eureka.  "  Let  me  be  heard  in  the  king's  council, 
and  prove  to  sufficing  judges  what  this  iron  can  do  for 
England." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          417 

"  Is  that  all  ?  So  be  it.  I  will  speak  to  his  highness 
forthwith.  But  promise  that  thou  wilt  think  no  more 
of  leaving  the  king's  palace." 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  If  I  may  enter  again  into  mine  own 
palace — mine  own  royalty  of  craft  and  hope — the  court 
or  the  dungeon  all  one  to  me !  " 

"  Father,"  said  Sibyll,  entering,  "  be  comforted.  The 
duchess  forbids  thy  departure,  but  we  will  yet  flee " 

She  stopped  short  as  she  saw  Hastings.  He  ap- 
proached her  timidly,  and  with  so  repentant,  so  earnest 
a  respect  in  his  mien  and  gesture,  that  she  had  not  the 
heart  to  draw  back  the  fair  hand  he  lifted  to  his  lips. 

"  No,  flee  not,  sweet  donzelle ;  leave  not  the  desert 
court,  without  the  flower  and  the  laurel,  the  beauty  and 
the  wisdom,  that  scent  the  hour,  and  foretype  eternity. 
I  have  conferred  with  thy  father — I  will  obtain  his 
prayer  from  the  king.  His  mind  shall  be  free  to  follow 
its  own  impulse — and  thou — (he  whispered) — pardon 
— pardon  an  offence  of  too  much  love.  Never  shall  it 
wound  again." 

Her  eyes,  swimming  with  delicious  tears,  were  fixed 
upon  the  floor.  Poor  child !  with  so  much  love,  how 
could  she  cherish  anger?  With  so  much  purity,  how 
distrust  herself  ?  And  while,  at  least,  he  spoke,  the  dan- 
gerous lover  was  sincere.  So  from  that  hour  peace  was 
renewed  between  Sibyll  and  Lord  Hastings. — Fatal 
peace !  alas  for  the  girl  who  loves — and  has  no  mother ! 

True  to  his  word,  the  courtier  braved  the  displeasure 
of  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  in  inducing  the  king  to  con- 
sider the  expediency  of  permitting  Adam  to  relinquish 
alchemy,  and  repair  his  model.  Edward  summoned  a 
deputation  from  the  London  merchants  and  traders, 
before  whom  Adam  appeared  and  explained  his  device. 
But  these  practical  men  at  first  ridiculed  the  notion  as 
VOL.  I. — 27 


418          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

a  madman's  fancy,  and  it  required  all  the  art  of  Has- 
tings to  overcome  their  contempt,  and  appeal  to  the  na- 
tive acuteness  of  the  king.  Edward,  however,  was  only 
caught  by  Adam's  incidental  allusions  to  the  applica- 
tion of  his  principle  to  ships.  The  merchant-king  sud- 
denly roused  himself  to  attention,  when  it  was  promised 
to  him  that  his  galleys  could  cross  the  seas  without  sail, 
and  against  wind  and  tide. 

"  By  St.  George !  "  said  he  then,  "  let  the  honest  man 
have  his  whim.  Mend  thy  model,  and  every  saint  in 
the  calendar  speed  thee!  Master  Heyford,  tell  thy 
comely  wife  that  I  and  Hastings  will  sup  with  her  to- 
morrow, for  her  hippocras  is  a  rare  dainty.  Good  day 
to  you,  worshipful  my  masters.  Hastings,  come  hither 
— enough  of  these  trifles — I  must  confer  with  thee  on 
matters  really  pressing — this  damnable  marriage  of 
gentle  George's !  " 

And  now  Adam  Warner  was  restored  to  his  native 
element  of  thought ;  now  the  crucible  was  at  rest,  and 
the  Eureka  began  to  rise  from  its  ruins.  He  knew  not 
the  hate  that  he  had  acquired,  in  the  permission  he  had 
gained ;  for  the  London  deputies,  on  their  return  home, 
talked  of  nothing  else  for  a  whole  week,  but  the  favour 
the  king  had  shown  to  a  strange  man,  half-maniac, 
half-conjuror,  who  had  undertaken  to  devise  a  some- 
thing which  would  throw  all  the  artisans  and  journey- 
men out  of  work!  From  merchant  to  mechanic  trav- 
elled the  news,  and  many  an  honest  man  cursed  the 
great  scholar,  as  he  looked  at  his  young  children,  and 
wished  to  have  one  good  blow  at  the  head  that  was 
hatching  such  devilish  malice  against  the  poor!  The 
name  of  Adam  Warner  became  a  byword  of  scorn  and 
horror.  Nothing  less  than  the  deep  ditch  and  strong 
walls  of  the  Tower  could  have  saved  him  from  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          4'9 

popular  indignation ;  and  these  prejudices  were  skil- 
fully fed  by  the  jealous  enmity  of  his  fellow-student, 
the  terrible  Friar  Bungey.  This  man,  though  in  all 
matters  of  true  learning  and  science  worthy  the  utmost 
contempt  Adam  could  heap  upon  him,  was  by  no  means 
of  despicable  abilities  in  the  arts  of  imposing  upon 
men.  In  his  youth  he  had  been  an  itinerant  mounte- 
bank, or,  as  it  was  called,  tregetour.  He  knew  well  all 
the  curious  tricks  of  juggling  that,  then,  amazed  the 
vulgar,  and,  we  fear,  are  lost  to  the  craft  of  our  mod- 
ern necromancers.  He  could  clothe  a  wall  with  seem- 
ing vines,  that  vanished  as  you  approached;  he  could 
conjure  up  in  his  quiet  cell  the  likeness  of  a  castle 
manned  with  soldiers,  or  a  forest  tenanted  by  deer.* 
Besides  these  illusions,  probably  produced  by  more 
powerful  magic  lanterns  than  are  now  used,  the  friar 
had  stumbled  upon  the  wondrous  effects  of  animal 
magnetism,  which  was  then  unconsciously  practised  by 
the  alchemists  or  cultivators  of  white  or  sacred  magic. 
He  was  an  adept  in  the  craft  of  fortune-telling;  and 
his  intimate  acquaintance  with  all  noted  characters  in 
the  metropolis,  their  previous  history,  and  present  cir- 
cumstances, enabled  his  natural  shrewdness  to  hit  the 
mark,  at  least  now  and  then,  in  his  oracular  predic- 
tions. He  had  taken,  for  safety  and  for  bread,  the 
friar's  robes,  and  had  long  enjoyed  the  confidence  of 
the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  the  traditional  descendant  of 
the  serpent-witch,  Melusina.  Moreover,  and  in  this 
the  friar  especially  valued  himself,  Bungey  had,  in  the 
course  of  his  hardy,  vagrant  early  life,  studied,  as  shep- 
herds and  mariners  do  now,  the  signs  of  the  weather ; 

*  See  Chaucer,  "  House  of  Time,"  Book  iii. ;  also  the  account 
given  by  Baptista  Porta,  of  his  own  Magical  Delusions,  of 
which  an  extract  may  be  seen  in  the  "  Curiosities  of  Litera- 
ture."— Art.,  Dreams  at  the  Dawn  of  Philosophy. 


420          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

and  as  weather-glasses  were  then  unknown,  nothing 
could  be  more  convenient  to  the  royal  planners  of  a 
summer  chase  or  a  hawking  company,  than  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  a  skilful  predictor  of  storm  and  sunshine. 
In  fact,  there  was  no  part  in  the  lore  of  magic  which 
the  popular  seers  found  so  useful  and  studied  so  much 
as  that  which  enabled  them  to  prognosticate  the  hu- 
mours of  the  sky,  at  a  period  when  the  lives  of  all  men 
were  principally  spent  in  the  open  air. 

The  Fame  of  Friar  Bungey  had  travelled  much 
farther  than  the  repute  of  Adam  Warner :  it  was  known 
in  the  distant  provinces :  and  many  a  northern  peasant 
grew  pale  as  he  related  to  his  gaping  listeners  the  tales 
he  had  heard  of  the  Duchess  Jacquetta's  dread  ma- 
gician. 

And  yet,  though  the  friar  was  an  atrocious  knave, 
and  a  ludicrous  impostor,  on  the  whole  he  was  by  no 
means  unpopular,  especially  in  the  metropolis,  for  he 
was  naturally  a  jolly,  social  fellow :  he  often  ventured 
boldly  forth  into  the  different  hostelries  and  reunions 
of  the  populace,  and  enjoyed  the  admiration  he  there 
excited,  and  pocketed  the  groats  he  there  collected.  He 
had  no  pride — none  in  the  least,  this  Friar  Bungey ! — 
and  was  as  affable  as  a  magician  could  be  to  the  mean- 
est mechanic  who  crossed  his  broad  horn  palm.  A 
vulgar  man  is  never  unpopular  with  the  vulgar.  More- 
over, the  friar,  who  was  a  very  cunning  person,  wished 
to  keep  well  with  the  mob :  he  was  fond  of  his  own  im- 
pudent, cheating,  burly  carcase,  and  had  the  prudence 
to  foresee  that  a  time  might  come  when  his  royal  pa- 
trons might  forsake  him,  and  a  mob  might  be  a  terrible 
monster  to  meet  in  his  path ;  therefore  he  always 
affected  to  love  the  poor,  often  told  their  fortunes  gratis, 
now  and  then  gave  them  something  to  drink,  and  was 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          421 

esteemed  a  man  exceedingly  good-natured,  because  he 
did  not  always  have  the  devil  at  his  back. 

Now  Friar  Bungey  had,  naturally  enough,  evinced 
from  the  first  a  great  distaste  and  jealousy  of  Adam 
Warner;  but  occasionally  profiting  by  the  science  of 
the  latter,  he  suffered  his  resentment  to  sleep  latent  till 
it  was  roused  into  fury  by  learning  the  express  favour 
shown  to  Adam  by  the  king,  and  the  marvellous  results 
expected  from  his  contrivance.  His  envy,  then,  for- 
bade all  tolerance  and  mercy ;  the  world  was  not  large 
enough  to  contain  two  such  giants — Bungey  and  War- 
ner— the  genius  and  the  quack.  To  the  best  of  our  ex- 
perience, the  quacks  have  the  same  creed  to  our  own 
day.  He  vowed  deep  vengeance  upon  his  associate,  and 
spared  no  arts  to  foment  the  popular  hatred  against 
him.  Friar  Bungey  would  have  been  a  great  critic  in 
our  day ! 

But  besides  his  jealousy,  the  fat  friar  had  another 
motive  for  desiring  poor  Adam's  destruction ;  he  cov- 
eted his  model !  True,  he  despised  the  model,  he  jeered 
the  model,  he  abhorred  the  model;  but,  nevertheless, 
for  the  model,  every  string  in  his  bowels  fondly 
yearned.  He  believed  that  if  that  model  were  once  re- 
.  paired,  and  in  his  possession,  he  could  do — what  he 
knew  not — but  certainly  all  that  was  wanting  to  com- 
plete his  glory,  and  to  bubble  the  public. 

Unconscious  of  all  that  was  at  work  against  him, 
Adam  threw  his  whole  heart  and  soul  into  his  labour, 
and  happy  in  his  happiness,  Sibyll  once  more  smiled 
gratefully  upon  Hastings,  from  whom  the  rapture 
came. 


422          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 
CHAPTER  VII 

A   LOVE   SCENE 

More  than  ever  chafed  against  Katherine,  H?  stings 
surrendered  himself,  without  reserve,  to  the  ch;.rm  he 
found  in  the  society  of  Sibyll.  Her  confidence  being 
again  restored,  again  her  mind  showed  itself  to  advan- 
tage, and  the  more  because  her  pride  was  farther 
roused,  to  assert  the  equality  with  rank  and  gold  which 
she  took  from  nature  and  from  God. 

It  so  often  happens  that  the  first  love  of  woman  is 
accompanied  with  a  bashful  timidity,  which  overcomes 
the  effort,  while  it  increases  the  desire,  to  shine,  that 
the  union  of  love  and  timidity  has  been  called  in- 
separable, in  the  hackneyed  language  of  every  love- 
tale.  But  this  is  no  invariable  rule,  as  Shakespeare  has 
shown  us  in  the  artless  Miranda,  in  the  eloquent  Juliet, 
in  the  frank  and  healthful  Rosalind ; — and  the  love  of 
Sibyll  was  no  common  girl's  spring-fever  of  sighs  and 
blushes.  It  lay  in  the  mind,  the  imagination,  the  in- 
telligence, as  well  as  in  the  heart  and  fancy.  It  was  a 
breeze  that  stirred  from  the  modest  leaves  of  the  rose 
all  their  diviner  odour.  It  was  impossible  but  what 
this  strong,  fresh,  young  nature,  with  its  free  gaiety 
when  happy — its  earnest  pathos  when  sad — its  various 
faculties  of  judgment  and  sentiment,  and  covert  play 
of  innocent  wit — should  not  contrast  forcibly,  in  the 
mind  of  a  man  who  had  the  want  to  be  amused  and  in- 
terested,— with  the  cold  pride  of  Katherine,  the  dull 
atmosphere  in  which  her  stiff,  unbending  virtue, 
breathed  unintellectual  air,  and  still  more  with  the 
dressed  puppets,  with  painted  cheeks  and  barren  talk, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          423 

who  filled  up  the  common  world,  under  the  name  of 
women. 

His  feelings  for  Sibyll,  therefore,  took  a  more  grave 
and  respectful  colour,  and  his  attentions,  if  gallant  ever, 
were  those  of  a  man  wooing  one  whom  he  would  make 
his  wife,  and  studying  the  qualities  in  which  he  was 
disposed  to  intrust  his  happiness;  and  so  pure  was 
Sibyll's  affection,  that  she  could  have  been  contented  to 
have  lived  for  ever  thus — have  seen  and  heard  him 
daily — have  talked  but  the  words  of  friendship  though 
with  the  thoughts  of  love;  for  some  passions  refine 
themselves  through  the  very  fire  of  the  imagination  into 
which  the  senses  are  absorbed,  and  by  the  ideal  purifica- 
tion elevated  up  to  spirit.  Wrapped  in  the  exquisite 
happiness  she  now  enjoyed,  Sibyll  perceived  not,  or,  if 
perceiving,  scarcely  heeded  that  the  admirers,  who  had 
before  fluttered  round  her,  gradually  dropped  off — that 
the  ladies  of  the  court,  the  damsels  who  shared  her  light 
duties,  grew  distant  and  silent  at  her  approach — that 
strange  looks  were  bent  on  her — that  sometimes  when 
she  and  Hastings  were  seen  together,  the  stern  frowned 
and  the  godly  crossed  themselves. 

The  popular  prejudices  had  reacted  on  the  court. 
The  wizard's  daughter  was  held  to  share  the  gifts  of 
her  sire,  and  the  fascination  of  beauty  was  imputed  to 
evil  spells.  Lord  Hastings  was  regarded, — especially 
by  all  the  ladies  he  had  once  courted  and  forsaken, — as 
a  man  egregiously  bewitched  ! 

One  day  it  chanced  that  Sibyll  encountered  Hastings 
in  the  walk  that  girded  the  ramparts  of  the  tower.  He 
was  pacing  musingly,  with  folded  arms,  when  he  raised 
his  eyes  and  beheld  her. 

"  And  whither  go  you  thus  alone,  fair  mistress  ?  " 

"  The  duchess  bade  me  seek  the  queen,  who  is  taking 


424          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

the  air  yonder.  My  lady  has  received  some  tidings  she 
would  impart  to  her  highness." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  thee,  fair  damsel,  when  thy  face 
brightened  on  my  musings ;  and  I  was  comparing  thee 
to  others,  who  dwell  in  the  world's  high  places;  and 
marvelling  at  the  whims  of  fortune." 

Sibyll  smiled  faintly,  and  answered,  "  Provoke  not 
too  much  the  aspiring  folly  of  my  nature.  Content  is 
better  than  ambition." 

"  Thou  ownest  thy  ambition  ? "  asked  Hastings, 
curiously. 

"  Ah,  sir,  who  hath  it  not  ?  " 

"  But,  for  thy  sweet  sex,  ambition  has  so  narrow  and 
cribbed  a  field." 

"  Not  so ;  for  it  lives  in  others.  I  would  say,"  con- 
tinued Sibyll,  colouring,  fearful  that  she  had  betrayed 
herself,  "  for  example,  that  so  long  as  my  father  toils 
for  fame,  I  breathe  his  hope,  and  am  ambitious  for  his 
honour." 

"  And  so,  if  thou  wert  wedded  to  one  worthy  of  thee, 
in  his  ambition  thou  wouldst  soar  and  dare  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  answered  Sibyll,  coyly. 

"  But  if  thou  wert  wedded  to  sorrow,  and  poverty, 
and  troublous  care,  thine  ambition,  thus  struck  dead, 
would  of  consequence  strike  dead  thy  love  ?  " 

"  Nay,  noble  lord,  nay — canst  thou  so  wrong  woman- 
hood in  me  unworthy?  for  surely  true  ambition  lives 
not  only  in  the  goods  of  fortune.  Is  there  no  nobler 
ambition  than  that  of  the  vanity?  Is  there  no  ambi- 
tion of  the  heart? — an  ambition  to  console,  to  cheer 
the  griefs  of  those  who  love  and  trust  us? — an  ambi- 
tion to  build  a  happiness  out  of  the  reach  of  fate? — 
an  ambition  to  soothe  some  high  soul,  in  its  strife  with 
a  mean  world — to  lull  to  sleep  its  pain,  to  smile  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          425 

serenity  its  cares?  Oh,  methinks  a  woman's  true  am- 
bition would  rise  the  bravest  when,  in  the  very  sight  of 
death  itself,  the  voice  of  him  in  whom  her  glory  had 
dwelt  through  life  should  say,  '  Thou  fearest  not  to 
walk  to  the  grave  and  to  heaven  by  my  side ! ' ' 

Sweet  and  thrilling  were  the  tones  in  which  these 
words  were  said — lofty  and  solemn  the  upward  and 
tearful  look  with  which  they  closed. 

And  the  answer  struck  home  to  the  native  and  origi- 
nal heroism  of  the  listener's  nature,  before  debased  into 
the  cynic  sourness  of  worldly  wisdom.  Never  had 
Katherine  herself  more  forcibly  recalled  to  Hastings 
the  pure  and  virgin  glory  of  his  youth. 

"  Oh,  Sibyll ! "  he  exclaimed,  passionately,  and 
yielding  to  the  impulse  of  the  moment — "  oh,  that  for 
me,  as  to  me,  such  high  words  were  said !  Oh  that  all 
the  triumphs  of  a  life  men  call  prosperous  were  ex- 
celled by  the  one  triumph  of  waking  such  an  ambition 
in  such  a  heart !  " 

Sibyll  stood  before  him  transformed — pale,  trem- 
bling, mute — and  Hastings,  clasping  her  hand  and  cov- 
ering it  with  kisses,  said — 

"  Dare  I  arede  thy  silence  ?  Sibyll,  thou  lovest  me ! 
—Oh,  Sibyll,  speak!" 

With  a  convulsive  effort,  the  girl's  lips  moved,  then 
closed,  then  moved  again,  into  low  and  broken  words. 

"  Why  this — why  this  ?  Thou  hadst  promised  not  to 
—not  to " 

"  Not  to  insult  thee  by  unworthy  vows !  Nor  do  I ! 
But  a?  my  wife! "  He  paused  abruptly,  alarmed  at  his 
own  impetuous  words,  and  scared  by  the  phantom  of 
the  world  that  rose  like  a  bodily  thing  before  the  gen- 
erous impulse,  and  grinned  in  scorn  of  his  folly. 

But  Sibyll  heard  only  that  one  holy  word  of  WIFE, 


426          THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

and  so  sudden  and  so  great  was  the  transport  it  called 
forth,  that  her  senses  grew  faint  and  dizzy,  and  she 
would  have  fallen  to  the  earth  but  for  the  arms  that 
circled  her,  and  the  breast  upon  which,  now,  the  virgin 
might  veil  the  blush  that  did  not  speak  of  shame. 

With  various  feelings,  both  were  a  moment  silent. 
But,  oh,  that  moment!  what  centuries  of  bliss  were 
crowded  into  it  for  the  nobler  and  fairer  nature ! 

At  last,  gently  releasing  herself,  she  put  her  hands 
before  her  eyes,  as  if  to  convince  herself  she  was  awake, 
and  then,  turning  her  lovely  face  full  upon  the  wooer, 
Sibyll  said,  ingenuously — 

"  Oh,  my  lord — oh,  Hastings !  if  thy  calmer  reason 
repent  not  these  words — if  thou  canst  approve  in  me 
what  thou  didst  admire  in  Elizabeth  the  queen — if  thou 
canst  raise  one  who  has  no  dower  but  her  heart,  to  the 
state  of  thy  wife  and  partner — by  this  hand,  which  I 
place  fearlessly  in  thine,  I  pledge  to  thee  such  a  love  as 
minstrel  hath  never  sung.  No !  "  she  continued,  draw- 
ing loftily  up  her  light  stature, — "  no,  thou  shalt  not 
find  me  unworthy  of  thy  name — mighty  though  it  is, 
mightier  though  it  shall  be!  I  have  a  mind  that  can 
share  thine  objects,  I  have  pride  that  can  exult  in  thy 
power,  courage  to  partake  thy  dangers,  and  devotion — " 
she  hesitated,  with  the  most  charming  blush — "  but 
of  that,  sweet  lord,  thou  shalt  judge  hereafter!  This  is 
my  dowry — it  is  all !  " 

"  And  all  I  ask  or  covet,"  said  Hastings.  But  his 
cheek  had  lost  its  first  passionate  glow.  Lord  of  many 
a  broad  land  and  barony,  victorious  captain  in  many  a 
foughten  field,  wise  statesman  in  many  a  thoughtful 
stratagem,  high  in  his  king's  favour,  and  linked  with 
a  nation's  history — William  de  Hastings  at  that  hour 
was  as  far  below,  as  earth  is  to  heaven,  the  poor  maiden 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS          427 

whom  he  already  repented  to  have  so  honoured,  and 
whose  sublime  answer  woke  no  echo  from  his  heart. 

Fortunately,  as  he  deemed  it,  at  that  very  instant  he 
heard  many  steps  rapidly  approaching,  and  his  own 
name  called  aloud  by  the  voice  of  the  king's  body  squire. 

"  Hark !  Edward  summons  me,"  he  said,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  reprieve.  "  Farewell,  dear  Sibyll,  farewell  for  a 
brief  while — we  shall  meet  anon." 

At  this  time,  they  were  standing  in  that  part  of  the 
rampart-walk  which  is  now  backed  by  the  barracks  of 
a  modern  soldiery,  and  before  which,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  moat,  lay  a  space  that  had  seemed  solitary  and 
deserted;  but,  as  Hastings,  in  speaking  his  adieu,  hur- 
riedly pressed  his  lips  on  Sibyll's  forehead — from  a 
tavern  without  the  fortress,  and  opposite  the  spot  on 
which  they  stood,  suddenly  sallied  a  disorderly  troop 
of  half-drunken  soldiers,  with  a  gang  of  the  wretched 
women  that  always  continue  the  classic  association  of 
a  false  Venus  with  a  brutal  Mars ;  and  the  last  words 
of  Hastings  were  scarcely  spoken,  before  a  loud  laugh 
startled  both  himself  and  Sibyll,  and  a  shudder  came 
over  her  when  she  beheld  the  tinsel  robes  of  the  tym- 
besteres  glittering  in  the  sun,  and  heard  their  leader 
sing,  as  she  darted  from  the  arms  of  a  reeling  soldier : — 

"  Ha !  death  to  the  dove 

Is  the  falcon's  love. — 

Oh!  sharp  is  the  kiss  of  the  falcon's  beak!  " 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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